


Chieftess Joyleaf

by wingthing



Series: The EQ Alternaverse [7]
Category: Elfquest
Genre: EQ Alternaverse, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 15:39:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4672076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingthing/pseuds/wingthing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From mate to challenger to chief: when Bearclaw wages war on the humans, Joyleaf takes the tribe down a different path.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chieftess Pride

Joyleaf couldn’t sleep. Every time she began to drift off, the nightmares woke her up. She saw Woodhue lying broken on the ground, his empty eye socket filled with clotting blood and cinders. She saw Farsong, that beautiful she-wolf, mutilated alongside her dead wolf pups. And she saw the humans dancing around their Pillar of Sacrifice, hooting and screaming their guttural war songs. 

The blond elf woke up with a start. Only yesterday the humans had attacked Woodhue and gouged out his eye with a fiery poker. Now he was One-Eye, and he would bear the mark of the round-ears’ torments forever. 

“You must leave the humans alone,” Joyleaf had shouted at Bearclaw. “If we hide ourselves completely, they will forget about us.” 

“You’re usually the wiser head, my Joyleaf, but not this time. Humans don’t live in the Now. They dwell too much on the past. And they don’t forget.” 

“But Bearclaw –” she began. 

He didn’t listen. He had only wanted joinings and lovemaking. He treated every moment as though it was the last – and the first – in his life. He lived too much in the Now. 

Joyleaf glanced down at her lifemate, fast asleep in the furs. His arm was thrown heedlessly over his head. His lip was curled back in a feral grin, and he was growling in his dreams. 

Joyleaf felt... dirty. How had she let herself be seduced by him again? One-Eye was moaning in pain in his den, the agony of his torture only barely relieved by Rain’s skills, and she had coupled with Bearclaw as if nothing had happened. 

The old badger did that to her. He seemed to cast a spell of forgetfulness over her. 

**Tomorrow is nothing,** he had sent to her. **Taste the sweetness of Now!** 

But she didn’t want to be in the Now. There was too much at stake. If the humans truly didn’t forget, then neither could the Wolfriders. Wolves learned from their mistakes and changed their tactics. The elves could do nothing less – if they wanted to survive. 

She felt ashamed that she had not resisted. She should not have taken pleasure during a time of such sorrow. 

You can’t live only in the Now, beloved, she thought. You must think of tomorrow. Or we won’t last to see it become today. 

* * * 

Bearclaw was right. The humans did not forget. They laid low for an eight of days, and then struck again. Crescent was gone. Joyleaf wrung her hands as she watched Moonshade and Strongbow gasp and moan in their misery. The mad grief had overtaken them and they could barely speak, let alone send. Strongbow lay against the root of Father Tree, struggling to keep conscious. Moonshade was hunched over her knees, sobbing quietly. 

Everyone wept. Rillfisher clung to Treestump desperately. Rainsong wiped at her eyes, but fresh tears sprang up. Strongbow’s half-brother Grayling sat by himself, staring dully at the ground, as though in a trance. 

Bearclaw drew New Moon. “Rainsong, Woodlock – take care of them. All of you, do not let them go from here!” 

Bearclaw began to hike into the woods, into the twisted thorn patch where his wolf-friend Snapper was waiting impatiently. Joyleaf felt her breath catch in her throat. No! He couldn’t be thinking – 

“Bearclaw...” 

“The humans have to pay!” 

“No! It will only bring more loss, more grief!” 

Bearclaw turned on her with a wild growl. He swung New Moon in a wide arc and fixed its point on the grieving archer and tanner. “Tell that to them!” 

Joyleaf couldn’t move. She could only watch as Bearclaw mounted Snapper and rode off through the briar patch, towards the humans’ camp. 

I have to do something, Joyleaf thought. I can’t let this go on. Bearclaw will not respect anything but violence. He never thinks of healing anymore, only of pain. But can’t he remember... the way his own father died at humans’ hands. He was there, but no he’s forgotten, even as Longbranch and the dreamberries keeps the memory alive in us. 

Sometimes... sometimes my badger is as mad as the humans. He needs a healing. Or... or something else. 

But Joyleaf couldn’t move. 

I love him. I know how he grieves... I can feel his breaking heart. But... oh, Bearclaw, can’t you ever learn? 

Joyleaf sat down on a root and waited. 

**Joyleaf?** Rain’s sending pierced her mind. 

**Bearclaw needs a healing,** she sent back. **He cannot lead us like this. Hatred, anger – he will only trap us in a cycle of pain as long as the humans endure. He must be made to see.** 

**Sight cannot be forced, Joyleaf.** 

Joyleaf balled her fists tight. **Then he must be made to stop!** 

Toward morning Bearclaw returned. He carried a bundle of fur in his arms. As Strongbow and Moonshade stared at the ground, lost in their grief, Bearclaw tossed the lump of fur at their feet. Joyleaf recoiled. It was a severed human head, inside the skin of a brown bear. 

**I got their chief,** Bearclaw sent, both to Strongbow, and for all the tribe to hear. **It’s done.** 

Moonshade turned away and sobbed. Strongbow sprang to his feet and threw the head away. His face was a mask of uncontrollable rage. **Done? It won’t be done ‘til they’ve all been slaughtered!** 

The head hit the ground at Joyleaf’s feet. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of dried blood. 

“Is this your answer?” she pointed at the mutilated flesh. “Bring more hatred and rage down on us? Did it bring Crescent back? You’ve only made things worse!” 

Bearclaw wheeled around at her. “You question me? Even YOU?! If this is the thanks I get, I’ll take my company elsewhere!” 

“Go!” Joyleaf screamed at his retreating back. “Go and don’t come back! This tribe is better off without you!” 

Bearclaw disappeared into the forest. Joyleaf fled back to her den and wept. Strongbow and Moonshade continued to cling to each other at the foot of the Holt’s steps. And the rest of the tribe kept an uneasy vigil around the edges of Father Tree. 

Joyleaf waited anxiously for Bearclaw’s return. Now that he was gone she was overcome with regret. I should have been kinder to him. I should have been gentle and loving. I didn’t think of his own grief, his own pain. I am a terrible lifemate to drive him away. 

What if he doesn’t come home? What if he leaves forever as I told him to? Oh Bearclaw, please come home. 

Joyleaf waited up all morning, hoping to see him familiar silhouette come through the briar patch. Finally she drifted off into an exhausted sleep. But the nightmares returned. She saw countless memories as clear as day. Dreams were like dreamberry juice to her. They brought back the past in perfect clarity. 

She sat on the roots of Father Tree and watched as Bearclaw struck Strongbow across the cheek. The poor boy had only been two eights and four, and Bearclaw had hit him with a savagery that startled them all. 

And Joyleaf had defended him. She had agreed with Trueflight that they were in no place to question him. 

She listened as Bearclaw plotted his first raid on the humans. She knew in her heart then that it was dangerous, that these humans were not weak creatures waiting to be driven off. 

But she had not protested loud enough. 

She sat in the tree as Bearclaw had charged the humans astride Snapper. Now they had seen the Wolfriders – now they knew the face of their enemies. She shouted at him afterwards, and he laughed it off. 

And she had done nothing more. 

Countless visions, sometimes real and remembered, sometimes imagined. Each time something worse happened. Bearclaw attacked a tribe member. He dared the humans to invade the Holt. Each time, Joyleaf stood by and did nothing. 

Fire rose around her. And she simply stood, watching it overwhelm her. 

When she awoke from her dreams, it was late afternoon. Bearclaw still hadn’t returned. It took three more nights before he staggered back, reeking of dreamberry wine and his own vomit. He collapsed into the furs and started to snore without a word to her. 

Joyleaf watched him sleep off his hangover. And she said nothing. 

* * * 

Three uneasy years passed. Bearclaw continued to run raids on the humans, stealing the prey from their traps and cutting their fishing nets late at night. Strongbow became colder and even more fanatical in his desire to see all the round ears dead. He never mentioned Crescent’s again. Neither did Moonshade. But Crescent’s name was always on the lips of her uncle Grayling, and her lovemate Pike. The two young elves grieved together and lost themselves in the dreamberries as Bearclaw urged the rest of the tribe, through words and action, to forget and move on. The Now was, as always, Bearclaw’s only comfort. The Now, and Old Maggoty’s dreamberry wine. 

After another absence in the troll caves, Bearclaw staggered back into his den. The stench of trolls hung over him, but he was still sober enough to grin ferally at his lifemate. 

“Where were you when we needed you?” Joyleaf demanded. “The humans are growing bolder again." 

“Awww... forget about the humans...” he slurred, and caught her about her waist. His sharp canines nip at her throat in his standard foreplay. The smell of troll sweat nauseated her, and she pushed him away. 

“I won’t join with an elf whose honour lies at the bottom of a troll’s jug.” 

“Aww... come, little Joyleaf...” he tried to cover her mouth with his. She recoiled from his touch and turned her head away. 

“Stop, Bearclaw. I don’t want to.” 

“I know what you want...” he pressed her down against the furs. 

“No!” Joyleaf pushed him off her. “Stop it, Bearclaw. I said ‘no.’” 

He rolled over miserably. “Cold fish...” 

“Look at yourself! Where’s Bearclaw, Blood of Nine Chiefs?” 

A soft belch escaped his lips. 

“You are disgusting,” Joyleaf pronounced. 

“Ahhh... that’s my Joyleaf,” he said drowsily. “Growl for me, wildcat.” 

Joyleaf pulled her tunic over her fawnskin jumpsuit. “You can sleep alone tonight, Bearclaw.” 

“Ohhh... you’ll come home to me, Joyleaf...” he called as she climbed out of the den. 

Joyleaf stalked off to the stream and sat herself down on the grassy bank. She began to throw little sticks and pebbles into the water, and watch the current carry them downstream. 

“Sister?” Treestump asked. 

She looked over her shoulder. The burly Wolfrider was standing behind her. He was clad in only his large furred vest, tugged down to mid-thigh. 

“Won’t Rillfisher miss you?” 

“She can do without my company for a moment.” He sat down next to her. “What’s wrong, sister? I heard your row with Bearclaw. What was he doing that you wanted him to stop, eh?” 

“He wanted... sport.” 

“Hah. And what’s so bad about that, suddenly?” 

“He’s stinking drunk. I couldn’t stand to let him touch me.” 

“Oh, come now, Joyleaf. You know you love him.” 

“Not when he’s like this.” 

Treestump patted her shoulder. “You’ll make up with him by tomorrow night.” When Joyleaf didn’t answer, Treestump shrugged, then started back towards his den. 

“Tell me, Treestump,” Joyleaf called to his back. “Why do you always take Bearclaw’s side?” 

* * * 

Bearclaw was up and about by sunset, but Joyleaf was in no mood to forgive him just yet. She was still annoyed. And frustrated. 

As it neared morning, Bearclaw’s wolf Snapper hadn’t come back from his evening hunt. Bearclaw went looking for him, while Joyleaf sat on the steps of Father Tree, braiding a new headband out of the soft ivy that grew near the Holt. 

A wild sending pierced her mind. **RAIN! JOYLEAF! I NEED YOU!!** 

Rain was already on his wolf-friend as Joyleaf called desperately for Shadowsheen. The silver-white wolf leapt to her side, and Joyleaf scrambled onto her back. She spurred her wolf down the game trail, following the receding figure of the healer and his mount. They cut through the weeds and brambles as Bearclaw’s sending continued to tear through their thoughts. **Faster Rain! I need you!!** 

Rain dismounted from his wolf as they entered the little grove. Snapper was lying in Bearclaw’s arms, twitching and moaning. As Joyleaf drew up behind them, she could see that the old one-eyed wolf was dying. 

Rain had his hands on Snapper’s gray belly, but he hesitated. Bearclaw screamed at him. “What are you waiting for? Heal him now!” 

“Bearclaw... I... it is too late!” 

As he spoke, Snapper breathed a final, ragged gasp, then sagged to the ground. Rain got up, his face in his hands. Joyleaf began to tiptoe closer. She knew instantly when the wolf’s heart stopped beating. Bearclaw collapsed against his wolf-friend, and the shudder that ran through his body was almost enough to stop his own heart. 

“Oh no!” Joyleaf sobbed. She felt the bile rise in her throat convulsively. Oh... Bearclaw had loved Snapper with such intensity. That old wolf had been closer to the elf than any other. Losing him now was like losing a part of himself. 

By now Foxfur, Strongbow and Moonshade were approaching on their own wolves. They saw the dead wolf, and kept a respectful distance. Rain was now recovering from his sorrow. “I’m... so sorry, my chief,” he stammered. “The poison had too long to work.” 

“Poison?” Bearclaw’s head snapped up. “He has no bites, no cuts...” 

Then it struck him. 

“Human poison!” he roared. His hand darted to his side and drew New Moon. “Filthy, treacherous humans!” 

Joyleaf turned to the other elves. She knew all the signs. She had to stop Bearclaw’s rage before it built up and overflowed in another fit of violence. “Listen everyone! There may be more of this poison about.” 

Then she turned back to Bearclaw and touched his shoulders lightly. He was even now inspected the sharp edge of his sword. Joyleaf made her voice sweet as honey. “Bearclaw...” she whispered. “Beloved.... come with me. We’ll ride my Shadowsheen and search out the deadly bait. If more there be–” 

“No!” Bearclaw whirled about, and Joyleaf staggered back. He held New Moon high. “I’ll hunt for HUMAN BLOOD!” 

“Wait!” Joyleaf caught his shoulders again. “Listen – I beg you! For once, no matter how your heart hurts, use your head! We attack them, they attack us – on and on it foes! Only we can end it. You must not seek revenge for Snapper.” 

He shoved her aside. “Out of my way!” he raged. He was sprinting, pumping his arms. Joyleaf glanced back at the elves. They remained passive on their wolves. 

With each stride, Bearclaw descended further into madness. Joyleaf could see the wildness of the bloodlust overcome him. He was losing himself to the wolfsong, to the Hunt. He would be gone in a few more strides, and the Wolfriders would be destroyed with him. 

She saw the nightmares flash before her eyes. She saw One-Eye lying drenched in blood. She saw Crescent being dragged away. She saw the humans dancing around their pillar of sacrifice. Fire burned in the background. Fire and blood. She saw the bright flames surround them all and burn the Holt itself to the ground. 

“No!” she cried. “Shadowsheen! Stop him!” 

Her wolf obeyed without hesitation and flung herself atop of Bearclaw. Her tackle shoved him to the ground and pinned him under her weight. 

“Joyleaf! What are–” Bearclaw began. 

“I’ve stood by and let you run off like a maddened boar once too often!” Joyleaf shouted as she tore off her overtunic. “I’ve seen blood and fire and pain and I won’t stand for it! No more! This is it, Bearclaw! It has to stop. And if you won’t stop it, then I will!” She tapped Shadowsheen and the wolf eased off Bearclaw’s body. But before the chief could get up, Joyleaf seized the back of his tunic and lifted him to his feet. She slammed Bearclaw against a nearby tree. 

**Have you gone MAD?!** Strongbow’s sent. **How dare you treat your lifemate – our chief – that way?** 

Joyleaf turned on him. **You may love his as much as I do, Strongbow, but this is between him and me!** 

“Let me go, you backstabbing viper–” Bearclaw began. But Joyleaf picked him and slammed his back against the tree again. 

“Not this time! I’ve tried words, I’ve tried love. I’ve given you every part of me for years, my body, my soul – I’ve given you compassion, understanding, and every bit of patience I have in me. No more! Your madness will destroy the tribe if I let you. I claim the right of challenge!” 

**You cannot!** Strongbow sent. He, Moonshade, Foxfur and Rain hovered uncertainly at the edge of the glade. **You are his lifemate!** 

Bearclaw shoved Joyleaf off him. She staggered back, but did not fall. “You won’t go beyond this glen, Bearclaw! Not until you listen to me.” 

“Out of my way!” 

She stood tall. “Never. You’ll have to kill me. I claimed the right of challenge, Bearclaw! You have to face me! And if the only way you can ease your rage is through combat, then by the High Ones, I’ll give you a fight!” 

Something changed in Bearclaw’s eyes. A glimmer of red bloodlust returned. “Go!” he yelled at Strongbow and the others. “Back to the Holt, all of you!” 

Strongbow retreated slowly. Rain touched Moonshade’s shoulder, gently bidding her to turn away from the horrifying sight of the two lifemates squaring off for what could prove a lethal combat. 

“Rrrrrr.... Joyleaf...” Bearclaw growled. “Don’t do this. You cannot defeat me... and if you press this... I will answer this challenge.” 

“Unarmed combat!” Joyleaf snapped. “Now – if violence and pain is all you will understand.” 

Bearclaw charged at her, his fists clenched together in a double-fist. He swung at her, but Joyleaf ducked the blow and caught his arm. She pivoted about and flipped him over her shoulder. Bearclaw landed hard on the ground. As Joyleaf hesitated, he grabbed her ankle and toppled her to the dirt. He leapt at her and shook her shoulders, then pounded the back of her head against the ground. 

“Stop this now!” he raged. 

Joyleaf forced her hands up around the back of his head and pulled his forehead to his. Their skin touched, and suddenly the fight turned from a physical one into a mental one – no less fierce, and no less deadly. 

* * * 

The Wolf growled at Joyleaf. Bearclaw’s soul had become a snarling, slavering beast, like the most feral brother of Timmorn Yellow-Eyes. He lashed out at Joyleaf’s soul with claws and fangs, forcing his will against hers. 

**Timmain joined with wolves to make us strong, not to make us mad!** Joyleaf shouted. 

**And gave us the Way, the Now of Wolf-thought!** Bearclaw shot back. **A true Wolfrider lives in the Now – and does what must be done!** 

**True enough – old badger!** she snarled back. **And this must be done!** 

The Wolf tore at her spirit, lost beyond all words, all coherent thoughts. Rage overwhelmed her. Bearclaw’s weapon was his fiery nature. Anger, resentment, wild wanderlust, deadly passion, all these were now focussed directly at his lifemate. The nightmare images assaulted her. She saw One-Eye lying in his own blood. She saw the murdered wolves. She saw Crescent’s skull against the Pillar of Sacrifice. She heard the wardrums pound out a deadly rhythm. They were not simply her own memories now. They were Bearclaw’s, and Mantricker’s, and Goodtree’s and all the chiefs’ stretching back to Timmain herself. The bloodlust in Bearclaw’s heart called forth countless images of blood and violence. **This is all humans will ever understand!** the Wolf shouted. **This is all the world will ever understand! This is the Now!** 

Faces of the dead and dying flashed before her. She saw ten generations of elves murdered and brutalized in a war with no beginning and no end. 

Joyleaf almost swooned under the weight of his anger. She felt his betrayal. How could she turn on him? She was his Joyleaf, his lifemate, the woman he one day hoped to Recognize. They had loved and lain together for centuries, and now she was seeking to destroy him, to make into something he could never be. 

She was his Joyleaf. His Joyleaf was supposed to obey him, to understand him, to stand by him and support him through everything. His Joyleaf was supposed to bear him a son – a fine young elf who would one day take up New Moon and lead the Wolfriders. 

Lead the Wolfriders into the fire, into the grinning maw of the Hunt. 

No! 

Joyleaf shot back, fighting for her very soul. **No! I am not your Joyleaf! I am not the one who will stand by you unquestioningly! That is not love! That is possession. That is madness. That is... that is something repulsive. I do not exist to satisfy you!** 

**Joyleaf!** 

**It is my love for you which makes me fight you! It is my love for the tribe!** 

She sent the images of the living to him now. Strongbow, Moonshade, Grayling, Pike, Rain, Rainsong, Shale, Eyes High, Treestump, Foxfur – every living Wolfrider appeared in their locked minds. **This is what I fight for! Life! What can you give us, Bearclaw?** 

More anger at her. More resentment. Bearclaw was gone. Only the Hunt remained. Rage and bloodlust and blood and fire. The fire burned her, threatened to extinguish her. 

**Life!** Joyleaf screamed back. 

Cool water washed over them, drowning out the fire, washing away the blood. 

The Wolf growled. 

**Don’t fight me, Bearclaw!** 

The Wolf began to retreat. The floodwaters rose around them both. 

**Joyleaf... lifemate...** he begged. 

**Surrender, lifemate.** 

**No!** the Wolf screamed. 

**Then it must end.** 

The Wolf sprang at her. The nightmare enveloped her. 

Blood and fire and wardrums. More death, more war. 

And at the heart of it all, a screaming child. 

**I will not bear that child! I will not be mother to death!** 

Joyleaf summoned all her strength. Pure cool light washed over them both. The Wolf tossed and raged in its death throes. 

* * * 

**She’s wrong!** Strongbow sent. **No one should question Bearclaw at such a time of loss, let alone heap indignities on him!** 

“Yes,” Moonshade nodded. “To challenge him like that... what... what if Joyleaf follows the path of Huntress Skyfire who ousted her chief-brother Two-Spear?” 

“Hmph,” Longbranch sniffed. “Sometimes Bearclaw acts as Mad as they say Two-Spear was.” 

Pike chuckled. 

Clearbrook protested. “Joyleaf would never tear the tribe apart that way.” 

“Aye!” Treestump said. “My sister is already as much our chieftess as Bearclaw is chief. I’ve never known her to act without reasoning first.” 

**I’m glad to hear you say that, Treestump...** 

All heads turned as Joyleaf strode into the Holt’s clearing. 

**Where is Bearclaw?** Strongbow demanded. **What have you done with h–** 

And Strongbow fell silent. Joyleaf was carrying New Moon in her right hand. And her ivy headband had been twisted up to hold a lock of hair above the crown of her head. 

“The chief’s lock...” Treestump whispered. 

“What have you done?” Moonshade gasped. 

“I challenged him. He lost. It’s over now.” 

**No!** Strongbow leapt up. **How dare you overthrow our chief?** 

“Is it my right, archer. Or have you forgotten that? We’ve lived too long under the rule of one elf. And his time is over now. I am chieftess now. Bearclaw is gone.” 

**Where is he? What did you do to him? Answer me.** 

“I left him where he fell. He can return to the tribe if he wills, or he can leave it. But if he challenges me again, I will drive him out.” 

“Sister, what has come over you?” Treestump asked. “These words are so cold. You say them without... without any feeling. This isn’t you.” 

Joyleaf rocked on her feet unsteadily. “I have been in a sending match for over an hour, brother. I’m tired.” 

“How could you?” Moonshade demanded. “He is our chief.” 

“Wolves will challenge for leadership when the chief wolf is too weak, or is mad with the foaming sickness.” 

**How dare you?** Strongbow thundered. 

Joyleaf turned her eyes on him. **No! How dare you, Strongbow? I am your chief now, not Bearclaw. Do you challenge me? Do you? If so then step forward. If not then keep quiet. Or go and join Bearclaw.** 

Strongbow recoiled. Joyleaf had returned a stranger. There was a fierceness in her eyes that he had never seen before. The gentle archer had turned into a snarling she-wolf... or some sort of mountain lion. The set line of her jaw and the intensity of her stare told him not to press for a challenge. 

“I claimed the right of any packmate,” Joyleaf said calmly. “As Huntress Skyfire did when she cast out Two-Spear’s madness.” 

“Two-Spear won that challenge,” Moonshade said. 

“But he left. He knew he could not remain a Wolfrider.” 

“Joyleaf – this isn’t like you,” Clearbrook said. “Why? Why did you do this?” 

“For your lifemate, Clearbook. For One-Eye, who escaped the human’s hatred. And for you, Shale, and you Pike, and even you, Strongbow. I did it so we could all survive. Bearclaw would have run headlong into the human camp and brought their wrath down on us. Fear, fighting, blood and fire – that is not the Way. Do you not all remember? Two-Spear would have taken us into a deadly battle with the humans – and that’s why Huntress Skyfire challenged him. But Bearclaw kept to the Now too blindly. He forgot that even wolves remember their past wounds and grow beyond them. He was trapped in a cycle – he still is! Don’t think I didn’t try to ease him free. I tried kindness, I tried reason, I tried patience. But I refused to stand by and let his destroy us.” 

Strongbow began to stride away. “Where are you going, archer?” Joyleaf asked. 

**To find Bearclaw.** 

“Strongbow – that isn’t the Way!” Moonshade cried. 

“No, let him go. You go with him, if it suits you, Moonshade. Return after you have found him, or stay with him forever. I will not force anyone to follow me. But if you follow Bearclaw, then there will be two tribes, not one. Remember that.” 

Strongbow and Moonshade silently sought out their wolf-friends. 

“Sister...” Treestump came up behind Joyleaf and touched her shoulders. “You’re tired. Go to your den and rest. Later... when your mind is at ease, you and Bearclaw can make amends.” 

“No. It is over.” 

“Don’t say that, Joyleaf. He is your lifemate.” 

“No longer.” 

“You can’t just cast away a lifemate.” 

“I have. I have cut him from my heart.” 

“Joyleaf!” he spun her around. “What has happened to you? You love that old badger. Every eights or years you two spat. But it will pass.” 

“Not this time.” 

“You can’t just... Joyleaf, what is wrong with you?” 

Her eyes darkened. “If you touched his mind as I have, Treestump, you would not have to ask. I saw his deepest fears. I saw his true nature. High Ones help me, I almost touched his soulname.” 

“But that’s wonderful. See – it’s proof you two –” 

“No. It’s proof that he is no longer fit to lead us. I have been his lifemate for many eights of eights. I have loved him and stood by him through so many trials. But I saw his soul, brother, and I was horrified. He is... he is wrong. He has become twisted by hate.” 

“Ah, he’s a mean son of a she-wolf all right–” 

**No, Treestump. Hear my thoughts. In sending there is only truth. It is over. For good. Can you understand that?** 

Treestump’s eyes widened. “Aye,” he whispered. “Aye, sister...” 

He turned away and walked back to Rillfisher. Clearbrook looked up Joyleaf pleadingly, then glanced away. No one would meet her eyes. At length they began to slowly retreat into the shadows. 

**Rain,** Joyleaf called. 

**Yes, chieftess?** 

**Go after Strongbow and Moonshade. Heal Bearclaw, if you can. He was... injured.** 

**Yes, chieftess.** 

* * * 

Rain found Bearclaw lying on the ground, curling in a semi-fetal position. His clothing was torn, and deep scratched laced his torso and arms. Strongbow and Moonshade hovered over him, begging him in sendings to rise. 

**Look what she did to him, Rain!** Strongbow raged. He pointed to the bloody scratches. 

Rain knelt down and touched the wounds. The instant he made contact with the flesh, he understood. “This wasn’t Joyleaf,” he said calmly. “These are self-inflicted.” 

Moonshade’s hand rose to her mouth. 

“Bearclaw?” Rain said. **Bearclaw – can you hear me? I am going to heal you now. Do you understand?** 

Bearclaw made no answer, but as Rain touched the first gash to seal it, the former chief caught his hand. **No.** 

“Bearclaw, these wounds could become infected.” 

Bearclaw shook his head. 

**You are still our chief, Bearclaw,** Strongbow urged. **Come back with us.** 

Bearclaw shook his head. 

“Please, Bearclaw. Let us help you.” 

He curled up into a tighter ball, hugging his knees to his chest. He began to whimper, and Rain leaned in close to hear the words. 

“Gone... lost... Joyleaf... gone... no... over... over...” 

“Bearclaw!” 

“No... gone....” His hands flew to his face and he began to claw his flesh anew. 

Rain slapped him hard across the face. The blow brought him around, and Bearclaw blinked weakly. He slowly got to his knees. He looked up at Strongbow. And he shook his head. 

“I can’t go back with you.” 

**Bearclaw–** 

“No... Strongbow. No more. I have lost my Way.” 

“Joyleaf will take you back as a tribemate,” Rain said. “Though... not as a lifemate. But you can still be a part of the Wolfriders. Even wolves that lose their challenges will run with the pack. Come on, let us help you.” 

“No.” Bearclaw got to his feet. “It is over. I am leaving.” 

“Where will you go?” Moonshade asked. 

“Into the wood. To the wolves.” 

**You can’t just leave us! High Ones, Bearclaw – what did she do to you?** 

Bearclaw glanced over his shoulder. “She... uncovered something... something I didn’t want to see. I have to go... I’m sorry... I have... I have to go.” 

“Let me heal you,” Rain begged. But Bearclaw limped away without a backward glance. Strongbow started to follow him, but Rain held out his arm and stopped him. 

Silently, the three elves watched his former chief disappear into the lengthened shadows of dawn. 

“What are we going to do?” Moonshade finally asked. 

“We’ll go back to the Holt,” Rain said. 

**With Joyleaf as chief?** 

“Do you want to challenge her, Strongbow? 

The archer did not reply. The elves hesitated a moment longer, then mounted their wolf-friends and slowly began the trip back to the Holt. 

* * * 

“There are some new rules now,” Joyleaf announced to the gathering of elves. “First: no one is to leave the Holt’s boundaries without my permission. Second: anyone who is allowed to leave the Holt’s borders must be in a party no less than three elves and their wolves. Third: no one is to ever initiate contact with humans. No more tricks. No more cut snares. No more stolen food. We will not hesitate to defend ourselves if it comes to that, but we will not go into battle – not even to avenge the death of one of our own! Understand?” 

There were some murmurs, but no more. 

“I refuse to believe the humans will never forget a grudge. Humans die. They re-seed their lands. And gradually they forget. We will not lose another elf to their Pillar of Sacrifice. This I promise you. And I also promise you this – the moment another one of us falls to the humans, I will step down as chief.” 

Joyleaf licked her lips. “Now, I know many do not trust me now. You cannot believe that I would turn against my own lifemate. And I admit, I can’t really believe it either. But it has happened. It is over. Now I do not tell you to forget what happened and move on. Far from it. We cannot survive if we think only of the moment – Bearclaw proved that to me. We can only grow if we look beyond the Now, so that know what we are growing towards. I know this will be hard. I know you can’t believe this is the same Joyleaf. But believe me when I tell you that I saw the future in my battle with Bearclaw, and I did not like what I saw. And I pledge myself to create a new future for us. 

“I am Joyleaf, Blood of Nine Chiefs.”


	2. Midsummer's Hunt

Joyleaf slipped out of her den as the last rays of the sun disappeared in the growing shadows. Dusk had come to the forest, and the Wolfriders could now roam without fear of human attacks. 

The weather was mild, as warm breezes gently blew in from the south, melting the last vestiges of frost. The past white-cold had been very harsh, and more than once Joyleaf had feared for her tribe’s safety. But they had weathered the storms, and now at last the newgreen was upon them. 

The chieftess of the Wolfriders paused on the gnarled roots of Father Tree. The other elves were slower to rise, and all but young Skywise were still fast asleep. Joyleaf spotted the cub playing in the stream, his wolf-friend Starjumper watching from the riverbank. 

“Hello, Skywise. Did you sleep well?” 

The boy glanced over his shoulder. “Not really. Couldn’t sleep.” He waded through the stream, his pants rolled up around his knees. “I thought I’d go fishing.” 

“Aren’t you cold?” 

“Nope.” 

Joyleaf smiled. Skywise was such a brave little cub. He had suffered through the white-cold without complaint with older, stronger Wolfriders shivered and moaned in misery. Grumbling had run perilously close to become genuine dissent, yet Skywise simply curled deeper into his fur blanket and cuddled close to his mother’s body for warmth. 

What a fine Wolfrider he would become. 

“Catch anything?” 

“Nope. I guess I’m not as good as Rillfisher.” 

“You’ll get the hang of it. But you remember not to go beyond the glade without one of your parents or Foxfur or Rainsong, hmm?” 

Skywise bowed his head. “Yes, chieftess.” 

She reached out and ruffled his white hair. “The last time you ran away from the Holt you found Starjumper, but I’d hate to see you try it again and find a human.” 

Skywise nodded gravely. The six-year-old knew all about the threats that humans posed. He had grown up hearing the stories – how One-Eye had lost his eye to the human hunting party, how Crescent had been dragged from the water and murdered, how the old chief Bearclaw had threatened to bring down the wrath of the humans, and how Joyleaf had taken the chief’s lock from him. 

Joyleaf stretched. “Where are the others, hmm? The white-cold is over. They should be springing from their dens.” 

Even as she spoke, Pike stuck his head out of his den and stretched. The elf yawned, then seemed to melt back into his den. Skywise chuckled, then crawled out of the streambed. Joyleaf helped him climb up onto the soft grass. “Ooh, your hands are cold,” she laughed. 

“Yep. I’m gonna get Pike right on the back of his neck.” 

Joyleaf smiled and shook her head. Skywise was most certainly Pike’s little nephew. The chieftess fondly recalled the night their newest tribemate was born. It had seemed almost that fate decided to compensate the Wolfriders for the loss of Bearclaw, because on-again-off-again lovemates Eyes High and Shale had Recognized not two months after Bearclaw’s departure. 

Why had she thought of him, just now? 

She shook her head. No. She hadn’t seen Bearclaw for eight years. She wasn’t about to waste a thought on him now. 

A yelp of surprise came from Pike’s den, followed by a flurry of laughter from Skywise. 

* * * 

The tribe came alive in the growing darkness, and the soft light of the two moons. Soon Rainsong and Moonshade were stringing together a long garland of white star-blooms, while Pike lounged sleepily on one of the branches outside his den. Skywise lay in the grass, pinned by a lazy Starjumper, who was demanding a good scratch on his muzzle. 

Clearbrook and One-Eye set out to dig up some fresh roots, while Strongbow roused a still-sleepy Grayling and Redmark for a hunting party. Joyleaf smiled. Nothing warmed a chief’s heart so much as seeing the tribe united and thriving. 

It wasn’t always so. She remembered the pain and frustration during the first months of her chieftainship. Bearclaw had been chief for hundreds over years, and the tribe had not adapted well to his departure, and Joyleaf’s new role. Strongbow and Moonshade had been the most vocal opponents – figuratively speaking in Strongbow’s case. And no small of amount of tension brewed between Strongbow and his half-brother Grayling. Strongbow had felt that as Bearclaw’s son, Grayling ought to have defended his father’s position. But Grayling was never a great admirer of the old chief – in no small part due to Bearclaw’s own ambivalence towards his son. 

**He is your sire!** Strongbow had raged. 

“And well I know you would rather he were yours.” 

**Where is your loyalty?** 

“Joyleaf is my chief now. Where is your loyalty to her?” 

**She has not earned it.** 

“And when did Bearclaw ever earn yours?” 

**How dare you say that? What gives you the right?** 

“Because he’s my sire!” 

That same argument had played on many different forms for moon-dances. Meanwhile, Moonshade, Foxfur, and even Eyes High found little moments to display a petty insolence. They performed their duties poorly. They forced Joyleaf to correct them, and thus seem like an overbearing tyrant. Treestump gave Joyleaf a cold shoulder – no, not cold, just... bewildered. He looked to her with a strange sort of half-resentful, half-mournful look, as though his sister was dead, and a stranger had taken her place. 

Those first few months had been hard. More than once Joyleaf had hoped Bearclaw would stagger back from the woods and take back his chief’s lock. Turning against her lovemate – her lifemate – had nearly broken her heart. 

And yet... what she saw in his mind when their souls battled for supremacy... 

She still shuddered, to think of the Wolf inside him. 

It was... a mad... raving beast – an overwhelming force of rage and reckless passion. 

He was not fit to lead. He was sick in his very soul. 

And yet, sometimes, when she fast asleep in the late afternoon, she thought she heard something in her dreams. A strange concept-image-sound that clawed at her defences. 

Grrrrr... 

It frightened her. And yet... she almost longed to hear the word clearly. 

Joyleaf shook her head. No. Bearclaw was gone. He had left the forest long ago. He might even be dead by now. Either way he was gone. 

She would not think of him. She would forget. She would move on. 

But she had long since lost the gift of the Now of Wolf-thought. 

It had been dying within her for years, but she lost it forever the day she defeated Bearclaw. 

* * * 

The newgreen faded into a warm, golden summer. The hunting was excellent, and it seemed that every day, a new hunting party returned with more meat. “Stroke the fires,” Joyleaf commanded. “Whatever we can’t eat, we will smoke and store for the white-cold.” 

**And what if the humans see our smoke?** Strongbow asked. 

“Foxfur and Brownberry are eyes-high – they will tell us if the humans are showing too much of an interest. I don’t think we need to worry – they would need to climb a very tall tree – or a small mountain – to be able to see our smoke. 

“Ah – I hate this work,” Treestump grunted, as he and Pike stirred the ashes over to wooden racks of meat. “I hate the smoke, I hate the taste of burned meat.” 

“I rather like it,” Pike shrugged. “Of course, I wish we could eat it now, instead of letting it harden as stiff as bark. But it’s sure better in the white-cold than a single snow-starved ravvit.” 

Nearby, Moonshade and Woodlock were scraping hides, while Moonsbreath and Rainsong stirred the fermenting vat of tannins that softened the hides for scraping. 

Redmark and Grayling returned astride their wolves. Behind them they dragged a large rectangular travois, over which was draped a young buck. 

“Hey, Moonshade!” Redmark laughed. “How’s this?” 

“More than enough, Redmark,” she grinned. 

“Leave the best hair on the hides, Moonshade,” Joyleaf said as she helped them unload the deer. “I want thick new leathers for everyone. My heart tells me the next white-cold will be even worse than the last. And if we can help it, I’d like new thick hide curtains on all our dens, to seal out the wind. We won’t shiver in the cold like last year.” 

Skywise ran up to her, and Joyleaf lifted him high in air. “Isn’t that right, Skywise? Ahh – you’re so heavy already. Better make three sets of leathers for him, Moonshade - this wolf cub is growing fast.” 

Rillfisher raced up to them. **There are some fine fern-fish lurking near Goodtree’s Glen. Who will fish with me?** 

**I will,** Grayling sent – for Rillfisher had long be rendered deaf by a severe fever. 

“Oh, you have done enough for now, Grayling,” Joyleaf began. But the young archer – his face a soft mirror of his elder brother Strongbow’s – shrugged. 

**I’m not tired. I’ll go with Rillfisher.** 

The blond fisher grinned. **Then let’s go.** 

Joyleaf sat down on a rock, and watched her tribe hurry about the business of stocking up for the white-cold. Skywise sat down next to his grandmother Moonsbreath, and asked if he could help with the tanning. Moonsbreath smiled, and let him stir the fermenting brew. 

Joyleaf remembered Skywise’s tears, only a few years ago. His mother’s wolf had had a litter, and none of the cubs were destined to be his wolf-friend. He was heartbroken, and he wept miserably. 

But Joyleaf knew what he really wanted – another elf-cub to play with. An agemate. 

No cubs had been born in the tribe since Crescent. The closest in age to Skywise was his own father, Shale. 

They needed cubs. Despite Rain’s attempts to force Recognition, both with Moonsbreath and with other elf couples, only Pike had ever been conceived. One-Eye and Clearbrook in particular wanted a new child, and Rain had been working hard to create something – some sort of spark inside either of them – that might one day bloom into full Recognition. 

Joyleaf herself had Recognized once before... long ago. How she had hoped she and Bearclaw might one day– 

No. She would not think of it. 

* * * 

As dawn neared the Holt, Joyleaf paced around the borders of their territory, the gnarled brambles and the distinctive scent marks of their wolfpack. She was tired, yet the air was still so crisp and moist that she did not yet feel like retiring. 

She heard a mournful howl in the air. She recognized it instantly. 

Bearclaw... 

She had never so much as scented him on the air for eight years. 

He was still alive... 

She wasn’t certain whether she was relieved or terrified. 

* * * 

Two days later, Joyleaf was carefully sharpening one of her arrowheads when Shale and Woodlock came rushing into the Holt, their clothing torn and their weapons missing. Joyleaf leapt to her feet. 

Humans? Have they at last returned for us, after leaving us in relative peace for eight turns of the seasons? 

“What happened?” Rainsong raced up to her lovemate and hugged him fiercely. “Oh, Woodlock... you look like you were mauled by a troll!” 

“Bear...” Woodlock gasped. 

“Old Toothless,” Shale said. He ran a hand through his mussed hair, then bent down to pick up his son. 

“Father! Father! What happened to you? Are you all right?” 

“Shh... cubling,” he soothed. “We just had a little run-in with a very cranky old grizzly bear. He took our bows and our spears – well, actually we gave them to him as we raced for the trees. Whew – it’s a good thing that old bear is just too big and too cranky to bother climbing after us.” 

“He was too busy claiming our kill,” Woodlock said. “We lost a good tusk-hog to him.” 

“So we took a little short-cut home through the trees, hey?” Shale gave Skywise a hug, then swung him up over his shoulders. 

Eyes High and Treestump jogged up to the scouts. Eyes High gave her lifemate a hug, while her father hung back to cast a cagey look at his chief-sister. “An old cranky bear is a dangerous thing, sister. But then I think you’re skilled at dealing with them, hey?” 

Joyleaf blinked at him. Had he actually told a joke about her challenge with Bearclaw? Never had she imagined he could mention that unfortunate incident so playfully. Treestump had always been the strongest advocate of reconciliation between the two warring lovemates, and he had always seem believe it was up to Joyleaf – the patient nurturer – to heal the rift. Was he now treating her as the warrior she had unwillingly become? 

**Brother?** 

**Nevermind.** And his smiled softened. **Go deal with Old Toothless. It’s a chief’s right – and a chief’s duty.** 

Joyleaf stretched, raising her arms high over her head. **Strongbow,** she sent. **Time to hunt bear. Get your spear.** 

Strongbow hastened to her side, already armed with a long pike. If there was any hesitation at going on his first bear hunt without Bearclaw, the archer did not show it. Silently the two elves hiked into the growing darkness, leaving their wolf-friends behind. 

“Old Toothless has led a good life...” Joyleaf said, almost to herself. “Sired at least three litters of cubs... seen his mates and children spread out through the forest. Let’s give him one last fight, and a better death than a lingering starvation.” 

Strongbow did not reply. 

“We’ll use the nets. I left them up in the trees near Goodtree’s Glen. We’ll go there first.” 

Strongbow nodded mutely. 

It’s hard for him... Joyleaf thought, though he would never admit it. 

It was for her as well, to contemplate a hunt for bear without her former lovemate. 

They retrieved the heavy net woven of thick fibers and glued together with sap. Several heavy stones at the edges of the net provided the weight needed to ensnare the old grizzly. 

Following the game trail, the two elves set the net high in above the crossroads of several scent paths. Sure enough, within an hour of watching, the old grizzly lumbered up over the crest of the hillside, following the scents of deer and squirrels in search of fresh carrion. The bear was huge, a grand old boar of a grizzly. Gray hair streaked his muzzle and shoulder hump, and around his eyes the hair was balding, revealing wrinkled flesh. One of his canines was broken off at the edge of his gums, and his shearing teeth were badly eroded. But his claws were still sharp and wickedly curved. 

**He’s looking for elves,** Joyleaf sent. **He’s already learned that he can just drive us away from our kills and feast on the meat himself. Be on guard, Strongbow. We may call him Old Toothless, but he still has some bit left.** 

**Aye,** Strongbow sent. 

They waited as the bear paced under their tree, sniffing the air in an attempt to identify the fleeting scent above him. 

“NOW!” Joyleaf cried. She and Strongbow dropped in unison, pulling the net with them. They flanked bear, and the net fell soundly over his shoulders. Joyleaf sprang in front of the rearing grizzly and thrust with her spear. But her aim was off, and the spear point glanced off the bear’s breastbone. 

“Strongbow!” she called as she ducked a swing of Toothless’ paw. 

Strongbow sunk his spear point into the beast’s breast, but the point missed the heart. Toothless swung at Strongbow and caught the archer with the pads of his paw. Strongbow went flying, and the spear snapped in two. Almost free of the net now, Toothless charged the archer. 

“No! Over here!” Joyleaf jabbed the bear in its flanks. “Here, bear!” 

She sprang over the rootlets that littered the forest floor, as the bear turned on her. She stood her ground in front of an old fir tree and dared the bear to charge her. As the bear bore down on her, Joyleaf hefted her lance high and aimed the point directly at his heart. Old Toothless fell on her, and Joyleaf braced the butt of her spear against the tree trunk, the rolled out of the way. 

But the spear did not take. The bear was more agile and more quick-witted than she had thought, and he twisted out of the way. The spear sunk deep into the bear’s shoulder, and probably grazed a lung, for Old Toothless began to cough blood and froth at the mouth. But he was still standing. And Joyleaf was now without her spear. 

She drew New Moon from its sheath and danced nimbly on the ground, ducking out of the enraged paw-swipes. “Strongbow!” 

Strongbow raced forward, brandishing the broken spear shaft. It had a wicked wooden point to it, but no more. And the archer had no other weapon. 

**Do we take to the trees?** 

**No! We finish what we started.** 

Old Toothless lunged between them, and with one sound pivot on his hind legs, checked Strongbow against a tree with his massive flanks. But his bloodshot gaze was fixed on Joyleaf. He caught her in a swipe of his paw and lifted the elf off the ground, pressing her to his chest in a death grip. His maw opened wide to rip her head from her shoulders. 

Joyleaf plunged New Moon deep in the bear’s breast, and Toothless threw his head back, spitting blood. His claws dug painfully into the back of Joyleaf’s tunic, and she cried out in agony. 

Suddenly a blur dropped from the trees and drove a long spike deep into the back of the bear’s neck, skewering the brainstem. Old Toothless froze, then wobbled and finally fell onto his back, blood pouring from between his now-clenched jaws. Joyleaf struggled to pull herself free of the heavy paws. Had Strongbow recovered? 

A hand caught her wrist and pulled her up atop the body of the dear bear. A strong, scarred arm wrapped around her waist. And Joyleaf, Blood of Nine Chiefs, found herself staring deep into the gray eyes of her once-lovemate. 

“Bearclaw...?” 

The Wolfrider grinned. He had changed much in the eight years since she had last seen him. His left ear was now cut like his right, and many white scars laced across his bared shoulders. But his toothy smile was triumphant as he clasped her to him. The wolfshead pendant still shone against his chest. 

The Wolf growled at Joyleaf. He lashed out at her soul with claws and fangs, forcing his will against hers... 

**Bearclaw!** Strongbow gasped as he slowly raised his head from the half-conscious sprawl under the tree. 

“Are you hurt, beloved?” Bearclaw asked her. 

The fire burned her, threatened to extinguish her... 

Somehow, Joyleaf realized that her own arm was around Bearclaw’s neck, clutching at his wolfshead pendant. 

Grrrr... 

**Grrrenn – Grenn!** she gasped as his soulname appeared to her at last. 

**Dehl!** 

**No – this can’t be! Not now! Not after... after everything!** 

**Dehl...** 

“Bearclaw...” Strongbow whispered hoarsely as he staggered up to the two elves perched on the body of Old Toothless. He saw the strange looks that passed between the former lovemates and his own brown eyes lit up in comprehension. 

“You...” 

**Strongbow – go back to the Holt!** Joyleaf sent. 

**But–** 

**Now! I order you – back to the Holt!** 

**I hear my chieftess,** he sent. He turned and jogged out of the clearing, hesitating only once to cast one final glance at Bearclaw. 

“You wear the chief’s lock well, beloved,” Bearclaw said. 

“Don’t call me that.” 

**Dehl...** he leaned in to nuzzle her golden hair. 

“I can’t be yours. Not like that. Not.... like...” Her voice trailed off. She heard the Wolf howling in her mind. No – it was something more than a wolf – it was a primal ancestral beast, greater and wilder than any living creature. 

Grenn... the name she had feared – yet longed – to hear for eight years. 

“I cannot be your lifemate!” she cried. 

Bearclaw blinked. The bloodsong seemed to ebb from his eyes. “And I cannot be a Wolfrider.” 

Joyleaf disentangled herself from the embrace and stepped back, appraising his new figure. He had lost some weight, and was wirier than ever. He wore no vest or tunic, and his bared torso was streaked with assorted scars and scratches. His trousers were tattered but still reasonably serviceable, and he wore the same fur-lined boots. His spear, she noticed more, was made of fire-hardened wood. 

“How... how have you fared?” 

“There is.. a wolf that tends to me. A loner, like me. We find enough to keep us alive. Occasionally I take a little extra from the human camp. But never enough that they notice me. I... I would not endanger your tribe, Dehl.” 

He acknowledged her leadership. She had not expected it. 

The fire burned her, threatened to extinguish her. 

“What are we to do?” 

“Do?” 

“How can I bear your cub, Grenn?” Even speaking his soulname brought back sharp painful memories of the spiritual duel. Grenn was wild and feral, at its heart far too alien, too primal to ever be a fully elfin Wolfrider. Grenn was something else, something that had slumbered on this earth long before the Firstcomers. 

And yet Grenn was now a part of her 

“No!” Joyleaf cried. She clenched her fists. “No! I cannot!” 

Bearclaw watched her uncertainly. He did not need to say that no one could refuse Recognition. 

Blood and fire and wardrums. More death, more war. 

And at the heart of it all, a screaming child. 

**I cannot bear your child!** Joyleaf cried. **I cannot! It will destroy me.** 

“Dehl...” Bearclaw reached out and took her hand with a touch that was surprisingly gentle, despite the heavy calluses on his palm. “How long we have waited for this.” 

“We ended it! Eight turns ago!” 

“Recognition does not care. Recognition is blind to thought and emotion. It is instinct, Dehl.” Now his eyes gleamed with predatory hunger. 

Instinct... just like Grenn. 

Mad, overwhelming instinct. 

“You... you sicken me,” Joyleaf choked out. 

Bearclaw climbed down from the bear’s carcass and drew her anew into his arms. “Yet you long for me...” 

“I don’t. I don’t. I loathe you. You destroyed our love.” 

“But tonight... Dehl. Tonight...” 

“And tomorrow? And the day after that?” 

“Tomorrow is nothing! What of Now, Joyleaf? Taste the sweetness of Now.” 

The fire burned her, threatened to extinguish her. 

She could not deny the bloodsong roaring in her veins... 

Recognition was overpowering, unstoppable. 

Just like Grenn... 

* * * 

Neither word nor sending passed between them as the midsummer night wore on. They gave themselves up to the bloodsong, lost themselves in the Now of Wolf-thought. As the fireflies began to dance over the ferns and they sank down into the soft grass, all they could feel was the driving passion of Recognition realized. 

**Grenn... Grenn...** his soulname echoed in Joyleaf’s mind, battering her senseless. 

**Dehl... you finish me!** Bearclaw sent as he climaxed. 

Never would either of them Recognize again. They knew it somehow, deep in their hearts. And it seemed indescribably perfect that both elves should finally come together – once lovers, once enemies, now somehow reconciled – for one final act of procreation. 

Bearclaw sank onto his elbows, but resisted the urge to collapse in Joyleaf’s arms. He knew they were beyond that. 

Joyleaf looked up at him with an expression somewhere between delight and apprehension. **We have made a cub, Grenn... who is all we are... and more.** 

**A blood of chiefs...** Bearclaw glazed wistfully at her a moment longer, then eased his weight off her and rolled onto his back. 

**Like Grayling,** Joyleaf reminded. 

Bearclaw blinked. **Grayling... how is my son?** 

**Well.** 

**I could have been kinder to him...** 

**Yes, you could have.** 

They were silent a moment, staring up at the moons through the clearing in the canopy. 

**It has come full circle...** Bearclaw sent. **And now it is complete.** 

**You will not return to us...** she asked, though she knew the answer. 

**My place is outside. I am a rogue wolf now. And perhaps... I was always meant to run wild.** 

**I understand.** 

He looked at her sadly. **You will tell our cub about me? That I was once... something different. Before the humans... before I lost track of the seasons?** 

**I will.** 

Bearclaw silently got to his feet and gathered his tattered clothes. 

**Will you not be cold, come the death-sleep?** Joyleaf asked. 

**I have enough.** 

She sat up and drew her knees to her chest. **Then this is farewell, Grenn.** 

He smiled bittersweet. **It was a good hunt... and a good end. Farewell, Dehl. I will always howl for you.** 

Tears welled in her eyes, against her will, as she watched him leave. 

* * * 

It was approaching dawn with Joyleaf returned to the Holt. Everyone was assembled and eagerly awaiting her. Strongbow must have told them all what he had seen. 

**Joyleaf! Where is Bearclaw?** he asked. 

“Gone. Back to his wolves, to his shadows.” 

“You mean... he is not returning?” Moonshade asked. 

“But... you Recognized him,” Treestump stammered. “Strongbow told us everything. It happened at last, sister – what you always dreamed of. Aren’t you... are there no... no feelings between you?” 

Joyleaf shook her head. “Recognition came, yes. But it came eight years too late for us to be lovemates.” 

**But – it was Recognition!** Strongbow spat. 

“Recognition does not always mean lifematings,” Rain said softly. “Bearclaw Recognized Trueflight to sire Grayling, but love never grew between them.” 

Grayling nodded. He did not say that perhaps if Bearclaw had only cared for Trueflight more, he might have remembered his son more often. 

Treestump scratched his beard and glanced over at his daughter Eyes High. “Aye... aye, you have a point.” Treestump had Recognized many times, and only Eyes High survived. Once, long ago, he had had another lifemate, but with Eyes High’s mother, the burning passion had not lasted much longer than that one joining. 

“Sometimes what will be will be... and that’s that.” 

“It was... appropriate,” Joyleaf touched her stomach. “We will have a blood of chiefs, born of both Bearclaw and me...” 

**No child born of such a... a mockery could ever be chief!** Strongbow spat. 

Joyleaf fixed her eyes on him. “Do you challenge?” 

Strongbow growled audibly. Their eyes met and they stared each other down as the air crackled with static from their furious sending stars. Finally, Strongbow broke the stare, looking away submissively. 

“Does anyone else challenge?” Joyleaf barked. 

Understandably, there were no takers. The chieftess turned back on Strongbow and smiled approvingly of his obedient posture. 

“Sister...” Treestump touched her shoulders. 

“You will not take his side again, Treestump.” 

“I don’t intend to. You are our chief. You have been for eight turns of the seasons.” 

“Aye,” One-Eye said. 

“And your cub will be blood of chiefs,” Longbranch said. “Blood of... Blood of Eleven Chiefs, isn’t that right?” 

“Ten chiefs,” Joyleaf corrected. 

“Aye, chieftess. Ten chiefs.” 

Joyleaf saw the uncertainty in her packmate’s eyes as she so casually cut Bearclaw’s name from the list of chiefs. She stood tall. “Bearclaw wished it as well. He is a rogue wolf now, he told me. He runs wild, as his soul has truly always wished. My cub will be Blood of Ten Chiefs.” 

“Aye,” Longbranch nodded. The other elves gave similar gestures of acceptance. 

Skywise had formerly hidden half behind his father, but now he stepped forward. “So we will have a new packmate two midsummers from now?” 

“Yes, Skywise,” Joyleaf smiled. 

The boy’s eyes lit up with delight. And Joyleaf felt the last vestiges of fear leave her. 

A cub... a new cub to ease the distant pain of lost children past. 

An agemate for Skywise, a sibling for Grayling. 

Bearclaw’s cub... 

Yes... what will be will be, Treestump, she thought. And that’s that. 

* * * 

The white-cold that followed that languid summer was as harsh as Joyleaf had feared, and the subsequent winter was even harsher. But her careful planning and smoking of meat kept the Wolfriders safe and warm throughout the blizzards. Now and then, one of the hunters returned with a small bit of fresh, steaming meat for their heavily pregnant chieftess, and for Brownberry, just beginning her two year pregnancy. 

Joyleaf smiled as she hugged her fellow lifebearer close in the chilly air. Those months of flirtations between the howlkeeper and the young gatherer had been realized just as the first snow began to fall. 

Shale parted the heavy hide curtain. He bore a scrawny ravvit. “Fresh meat for the lifebearers. My Eyes High’s two turns with cub trained me well to hunt extra food.” 

“Eat, beloved, to the lifebearers,” Longbranch handed Brownberry a fresh piece of meat. 

“Noble fool,” she laughed as she wiped a tear from her eye. “Make me blubber again and I’ll smack you.” 

Joyleaf slipped her arm free of her comrade and began to attack her portion of meat with gusto. By the High Ones, smoked meat could not compare with this! 

“How are the wolves holding up?” she asked. 

“Well. They love the taste of smoked venison, and they’re as stronger as in summer.” 

“Your foresight has served us all well, chieftess,” Longbranch said. 

“Have Pike and Grayling and Strongbow returned from their scouting trip?” 

Shale shook his head. 

Joyleaf bit her lip. The humans were surely suffering in this white-cold. But come the newgreen... and then the summer, when her cub would born... what then? And yet she didn’t dare wage an all-out battle with the humans. 

The curtain parted as Pike came barrelling into the main chamber of Father Tree. Frost was clinging to the long hairs on his parka. “The humans are gone, Joyleaf!” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Gone! They’ve all packed up and left. The scent is very old – they must have left shortly after the first snows. After so many turns... the bitter white-cold’s done the dirty work for us! There’s nothing but a few old bent willow branches and the tracks of ravvits and squirrels.” 

“Truly?” Joyleaf sat up tall. 

“Truly.” 

“Then go back,” Joyleaf grinned. “Tear it down. Tear down all that remains. Bury the remains deep in the snow. Let no one – no thing – who might pass by ever realize that humans once camped there.” 

“Aye, chieftess,” Pike grinned. And he raced back out into the snow. 

Joyleaf sat back, cradling her swollen belly. The humans were gone... the forest was safe at last. Only a few more months before the newgreen... and then summer... and a new cub. 

* * * 

As the new cub’s closest agemate, Skywise was granted the rare honour of attending to Joyleaf during her labour. He handed her a small cup of cool water as she crouched on the little stool, attended by Rain, his daughter Rainsong, and the soon-to-be-brother Grayling. 

“How much longer?” Skywise whined. 

“Shh...” his aunt Rainsong whispered. “The cub will come when it’s ready, Skywise.” 

“Sorry, Rainsong. I can’t wait to have a friend almost my age.” 

“Thank you, Skywise,” Joyleaf said as she sipped the cool water. “Don’t worry. You’ll have a little agemate before dawn.” 

She shifted on the stool, and Rain pressed a hand to the small of her back to relieve the ache. 

“It’s... all right... right?” Skywise asked. 

“There’s no pain at all, cubling,” she assured him. “Only the pleasure of guiding a new life into the world. You’ll see... ahh... now!” 

Rainsong hastened to take her place and catch the baby with a clean deer hide. As she squeezed Rain’s and Grayling’s hands for support, Joyleaf bore down with the contraction, and after two strong pushes, the baby slipped into Rainsong’s waiting hands. 

“A girl!” she cried. “A little girl!” 

Joyleaf leaned forward and her eyes filled with tears as she beheld the slippery newborn gurgling on the hide. A chubby little girl-cub, with huge eyes that were already turning from a newborn’s gray to a bright blue, a round head topped with light blond fuzz. 

“She looks just like her mother,” Rainsong smiled. 

“A fine–” Rain began, then gasped aloud. “A spirit-maker!” 

A jumping spider on the wall of the den sprang into the air, its trajectory already aimed towards the baby. If the spider was at all disturbed when it landed – say, by the stirring of the baby’s chest, the spider’s fangs would strike. 

All this happened in less than a panicked heartbeat, for Skywise leapt forward, and clapped the two small water bowls together, trapping the spider inside the clay shell mere inches about the baby. A heavy kwolp! resonated in the den, and the baby wailed in terror. 

“Whew,” Skywise sat back, holding the bowls tightly together. 

“Well done,” Rain patted his back. “You may have just saved your future chief.” 

Joyleaf gathered the fur-swaddled baby to her breast. “My little cub... oh, thank you Skywise. Hurry, drop both those bowls in the stream. Do not pull them apart before the spider is drowned.” 

Skywise raced out to kill the spider while Joyleaf slowly got to her feet. 

“Chieftess – you must rest,” Rain pleaded. 

“No... first I must – ah, Rainsong, could you help me?” 

Rainsong helped Joyleaf stand, and steadied her. 

“I must... show my daughter to my tribe... it is the chief’s duty... and the chief’s privilege.” 

Rain shook his head. Stubborn as her daughter’s sire. 

Barefoot, her baby held tight in her arms, Joyleaf stepped down onto the grass outside Father Tree Holt. The tribe hurried to get a look of their new tribemember. 

Grayling and Rainsong supported the chieftess as she cradled the baby, so all could see. 

“This is the my daughter,” she said in a faltering voice. “She will be chief after me.” 

Skywise jogged back up from the river, empty bowls in his hands. “The spirit-maker’s dead!” 

“Good work, Skywise. My daughter could well have died were it not for this cub’s swift actions,” she told the tribe. “I can only hope my cub will grow up to be as fine a young Wolfrider as the boy who saved her life. And so... so I have decided that the tribe shall call her Swift.” 

Skywise grinned ear-to-ear. Treestump laughed. “Well, I don’t know about swift reflexes, but the lass has a good set of lungs.” 

Shadowsheen sniffed at her elf-friend and the newborn, wagging her tail eagerly. 

“Want to inspect her, hmm, Shadowsheen? Sit now, don’t frighten her.” 

Shadowsheen sat back, and Joyleaf held the cub to her nose. The infant’s cries soon turned to delighted gurgles, and Shadowsheen “buff”ed an enthusiastic approval. 

Everyone laughed. Clearbrook bent down and gave Shadowsheen’s shoulder a massage. “Timmorn’s blood runs true. The wolves know she’s their cub too.” 

All the wolves set into a lusty chorus of howls as the other elves cheered for their new tribemate. 

* * * 

Three hillsides over, Bearclaw heard the howls and knew the reason. He had a cub now. 

No... Joyleaf had a cub. 

Bearclaw added his own voice, scratchy from disuse, to the howl. Perhaps Dehl would hear him.


	3. Chief's Lock

Joyleaf sat back in against the heavy fur cushions, moaning softly in pain. Her chest and right shoulder were tightly wrapped in rabbit fur and woven bandages. Rain had cut away her trouser-leg so he could bind her cut thigh as well. The longtooth’s fangs had sunk deeply into her shoulder, and its claws had gashed her thigh. Only Redmark’s – no, Redlance’s – courageous actions had saved the chieftess from certain death. 

“You must rest now, as must I,” Rain said. “The wounds are deep. They will take many days, even moons, to heal fully.” 

“What luck,” Joyleaf moaned. “Ah well... I have often felt I needed a little more rest.” She looked up at her daughter, now almost two-eights-and-one old. “You will keep me company, I hope.” 

“Of course, Mother,” Swift smiled. 

Nightfall, Redlance, Rain and Skywise filed out of the den, leaving mother and daughter alone. Swift took Joyleaf’s hand in hers and pressed it to her cheek. “I was terrified, Mother. I thought I might lose you.” 

“Don’t worry, cubling. I am not ready to leave this world just yet. Now... how shall we pass the time, hmm? Have you and Nightfall and Scouter and Dewshine thought up any new games?” 

“Not lately. Hey, I have a thought. Teach me the human’s tongue.” 

Joyleaf blinked. “But the humans haven’t troubled us since they returned here four years past. Why would you want to learn their language?” 

“Well... we thought that the humans were gone forever when they left last time. But they’re back now. And maybe they’ll come looking for us again. So... shouldn’t I learn how to speak the human tongue too?” 

Joyleaf grinned. “You are my cub, aren’t you? You even catch me with reason from time to time... just as I used to catch... your sire.” 

Swift bit her lip. Mother and daughter so seldom spoke of Bearclaw. Swift preferred it that way. She and Joyleaf were so close, so perfectly attuned to one another, that Bearclaw shadowy existence as her sire seemed... entirely unnecessary. 

Joyleaf saw Swift’s brooding expression. “You know... Bearclaw was a very... rare sort of elf.” 

“I know all about him. Grayling told me. So did Pike, and Moonsbreath and the others.” 

Joyleaf said nothing. What could she say to Swift? How could she begin to explain the strange mixture of utter hatred and... some strange yearning that she did not want to feel? 

“The human tongue...” Joyleaf said instead. “Very well. Lock-send with me, and I will teach you.” 

* * * 

“Shaman!” the men of the hunting party shouted as they dragged the carcass of the longtooth into the camp. “See what we found!” 

The aging shaman hastened to the beast. A delicate arrow and a spear, both tipped with this strange shiny sort of rock, were lodged in the creature’s hide. “What is it, shaman?” the younger men asked. 

“Demon weapons! I know their work. And Gotara willing, the longtooth’s fangs are smeared with demon blood! How cunningly they have hidden from us since our return. But now we know they are still here!” 

“What shall we do, oh mighty spirit man?” his protégé, Tabak asked. A cruel glimmer lit up his eyes. He knew well what the shaman wanted. 

The old man got to his feet and raised his fist to the sky. “Let the Sacred War begin!” 

* * * 

Midsummer came to the forest, and with it, new life. The cubling’s cries softly echoed through the bowers of Father Tree. Moonshade rested under a heavy bearskin – Joyleaf’s own blanket, which she had lent to the new mother – while Strongbow held his son in his arms. 

Joyleaf, now fully healed from her near-fatal injuries, smiled proudly at the newest addition to the tribe. An explosion in Recognitions since Swift’s birth had swelled the tribe to three-eights strong, and even now, Rainsong was one year away from giving birth as well. 

Two years after Swift’s birth came little Nightfall, now a plump and voluptuous child of fifteen, already with a devoted lovemate. Then Treestump had at last Recognized his beloved Rillfisher, and Dewshine followed two years later. Rain’s attempts at forcing a second Recognition between One-Eye and Clearbrook at last succeeded – or had it been a spontaneous Recognition? No one really knew – and Scouter joined the tribe nine summers ago. And now Strongbow and Moonshade had a cub to take the place of sweet Crescent, who had been so cruelly taken from them thirty years ago. 

The tribe had faced lost as well, Joyleaf thought sadly. Rillfisher had been killed by a falling tree branch five years ago, just before the humans returned to the forest. Poor Dewshine had been only seven – far too young to lose her mother. 

Strongbow smiled down at his son while Grayling edged close for a look at his new nephew. The son of Bearclaw and Trueflight had never shared more than a shaky bond with his elder half-brother, but Joyleaf hoped that the birth of the new cub would bind Strongbow and Grayling closer than ever. 

“Hah, he has a bit of red to that hair, I think,” Grayling grinned at the fuzz on the baby’s hair. 

“What is his name?” Rainsong asked, as her hand strayed to her own swollen belly. 

Moonshade and Strongbow shared a quick glance, then Moonshade looked up at Joyleaf. “You have united the tribe as never before, chieftess, and you have given us a safe Holt in which to raise our children, despite the return of the humans. We would be honoured if you would choose a tribe name for our cub.” 

Joyleaf’s eyes lit up. Strongbow and Moonshade had always been the strongest hold-outs to her new reign, always secretly hoping that Bearclaw would return to take back his chief’s lock. With tears sparkling in her eyes, Joyleaf took the baby from Strongbow and examined him carefully. 

“He is his father’s son. May his arrows one day fly as true as Strongbow’s. We will call him Dart. May he run with us always.” 

**Dart...** Strongbow looked down at his son proudly. 

“Here,” Joyleaf handed the baby back to his father. “Let us show our newest packmate to the tribe.” 

Rainsong stayed with Moonshade as Joyleaf, Strongbow and Grayling slipped out to the waiting pack. Just then the baby inside Rainsong’s womb kicked, and she held Moonshade’s hand to her stomach to feel it. 

* * * 

“Do you hear the wardrums?” Swift whispered in the darkness. “The humans are up to something.” 

“I know,” Joyleaf fretted. Mother Moon had gone through but one phase since little Dart’s birth. “I remember those sounds. They are preparing for some sort of battle. We must be on guard. Everyone must be.” 

“Let me go on lookout, Mother,” Swift said. “I can go through the trees – no human will see me.” 

“You’re too young, Swift.” 

“Mother... are you sure we couldn’t talk to the humans? Maybe... we could work out some sort of peace–” 

“Peace!” Pike laughed. “That’s a good one, cub.” 

Swift glared at him. “I’m not a cub, Pike. And well you know it.” 

Pike blushed deeply. 

**There’s no talking to ‘em,** Strongbow sent. **They only understand blood!** 

“If that’s so then why didn’t you ever wage your own battle on the humans? You could have probably wiped them out late at night. But you didn’t. So... why not try to talk to them? Otherwise what – we just sit here and watch them forever.” 

“That’s enough, Swift,” Joyleaf said gently. 

Swift slumped against the tree-branch. “It just seems silly. Either we ought to drive them out of the forest, or we ought to find some way for all of us to share the forest. Or...” 

“Or what, cub?” Treestump asked. 

“Or we ought to leave – and find a new forest – one without humans.” 

**Leave the forest?** Strongbow sent. **Leave our home – our Father Tree? Are you mad, cub?** 

“We Wolfriders travelled in the past. We didn’t always live here. Isn’t that right, Longbranch?” 

“Yes... that’s true. My... father Owl lived in the same of great wanderings. And I... I.. remember... many many turns ago – when all these trees were not even sapling – we Wolfriders lived in a different forest – the Everwood. It was not until Goodtree – your great-grandmother, Swift – that we came here. But Swift, we have lived here ever since. None by I can remember the time before then – and even I see it through haze. We cannot just... abandon our Holt.” 

“But we cannot make peace with the humans?” 

“I don’t think they have it in them to reason,” Longbranch said. “They are... halfwits. They only understand pain and violence and... and this brutality that cannot be explained.” 

“Hmph....” Swift climbed down from the branch. 

“Where are you going, Swift?” Joyleaf called. 

“I’m going for a walk.” 

“Don’t leave the Holt’s boundaries.” 

“You know me better than that, Mother. Nightrunner. Let’s go.” 

The gray wolf rushed to her side, and Swift mounted him without breaking her stride. The two disappeared into the darkness. 

She has his brooding fits... Joyleaf thought. 

* * * 

Swift and Nightrunner patrolled the outer edge of the Holt’s boundaries, listening to the distant drumbeats from the human camp. “Bah.. cursed humans...” Swift growled. “Come on, Nightrunner, let’s get a little closer, hey? We’ll go out towards the briar patch.” 

Nightrunner hesitated. 

“Come on, trembly legs,” Swift dug her heels into the wolf’s ribs. “We’re still inside the Holt’s territory.” 

Nightrunner loped ahead. A cold wind came up from the north, and Swift shivered. The wing made it hard to scent the dangers that could lurk nearby. Swift dug her fingers into the wolf’s fur to keep them warm. 

Little Dart now born to the tribe, and Rainsong’s baby due sometime next autumn... 

It wasn’t right to raise such cubs so close to an enemy. 

But what could they do? If the elders were right and no humans could be reasoned with... if it went against the way leave the Holt and start anew... then the only other option was a battle to the death. 

And that was no option. Bearclaw had tried that. And it had driven him insane. 

She thought of Joyleaf’s attempts to convince her that Bearclaw had been an elf worthy of respect once. She didn’t believe it. She had heard too many stories from Pike and Grayling and the others. Especially Grayling. Bearclaw had alternately held his son to impossibly high standards or forgotten about him entirely. Grayling hadn’t been the son Bearclaw wanted, certainly not the Blood of Chiefs Bearclaw wanted. He was too gentle, too fond of green growing things, not fond enough of blood and hunts. 

Grayling was a throwback to a different time, Longbranch once said. He was much more like his great-great-grandfather Tanner than like Bearclaw. 

Bearclaw had never tolerated – let alone respected – differences. His Way was unbending. And because he could not bend, he snapped. Swift knew that for a fact. Why should Joyleaf try to convince her otherwise? Swift knew how her mother loathed the creature Bearclaw had become. She knew that the Recognition that had given her life had been a secret torment to Joyleaf. 

Nightrunner whined anxiously. Swift bit her lip. Surely they had not strayed outside the Holt’s boundaries. Nightrunner would not let her. But... there was something in the air – something that smelled like vaguely burned grass. The wind whistled through the scraggly tree branches. Swift looked up – why were there never any leaves on these trees? 

Nightrunner scratched the ground with his paw. “All right, trembles,” Swift whispered. “Let’s turn around and head home.” 

The wolf turned and began to pace back towards the Holt. Suddenly he stopped, and began to growl furiously. His ears flattered against his skull, and his hackles rose. 

“What is it, Nightrunner?” 

And then, with a change in the wild, Swift smelled something on the breeze. An elf – but one she had never scented before. 

**Who’s out there?** she asked. **I know you’re out there. Show yourself.** 

A shadowy figure slowly became visible under the gnarled tree branches. Swift reached for her dagger. “Who are you?” Swift barked. “You’re no human!” 

The figure neared, and finally became visible in the fleeting moonlight that pierced the clouds. Swift drew in a breath. It was an elf, a scarred, wiry, rag-clad elf with wild brown hair and a silver pendant hanging against his chest. 

A wolfhead pendant. 

“Bearclaw?” Swift whispered. 

The elf blinked. “Daughter..” 

Swift dismounted. “No. You cannot call me that. You haven’t the right.” 

“I am your sire.” 

“And your task was completed nineteen turns ago.” 

“Has it been so long already?” 

“We all thought you had died by now. What are doing here? You’re inside the Holt’s boundaries.” 

“No one ever told me I could not cross the borderline.” 

“I am telling you. I don’t want you here.” 

Bearclaw chuckled. He scratched his scraggly beard. “And who are you, cub?” 

“I am the Blood of Chiefs.” 

“My blood...” Bearclaw turned wistful again. 

“Joyleaf’s blood.” 

“Tam–” 

Swift cried out in pain. Her legs buckled, and her hands rose to cover her ears. 

Bearclaw raced towards her, fatherly concern on his features. But Swift’s head snapped up. “NO! No closer. Stay away.” 

Bearclaw opened his mouth, and she cut him off. “Don’t say it! By all the High Ones, don’t you ever say it again!” 

“I did not think it would wound you.” 

“It does!” 

“But it is your name. I have known it since the moment you came into being that midsummer.” 

“You haven’t the right. It is my soulname. Mine alone! Never speak it again!” 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Then go away. Leave me be.” 

“I have been watching you... you have become such a beautiful lass.” 

Revulsion crossed Swift’s face. “Don’t look at me like that! How dare you spy on me? Have you been watching Joyleaf too? Do you know how she still hurts when your name is mentioned?” 

“Swift–” 

“No! Go away. You’re not welcome here.” 

Bearclaw growled low in his throat. “You’re still just a cub, Swift.” 

“This cub has a bite.” She withdrew her dagger from its sheath. “Don’t challenge me.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he sneered. 

“Then go!” 

Bearclaw turned and faded back into the darkness. But his voice called out from the shadows. “You are my blood, Swift, whether you will admit it or not.” 

“I may be your blood. But you are not my father!” she shouted back. 

A distant rumble of thunder was the only answer. 

Swift remounted Nightrunner and urged him on with a nudge to the ribs. The wolf had taken no more than five paces back towards the Holt when a blazing sending star pierced Swift’s mind. 

**SWIFT! Daughter – where are you?** 

**Mother? I’m fine. I’m near the briar patch.** 

**Come back to the Holt immediately! The humans have struck again – Foxfur and Brownberry barely escaped with their lives. Hurry back! I don’t know how many more hunting parties there may be.** 

“Go, Nightrunner!” Swift urged, and Nightrunner began to race. 

Swift heard a mournful howl behind her, and she ignored it. 

* * * 

Bearclaw heard Joyleaf’s open sending in his mind, and his blood ran cold. The humans were once again hunting elves – after twenty-four years without incident. And his foolish cub had been out by herself, near the edge of the Holt’s borders. 

Something had to be done. 

A dark black shadow silently drifted to his side. Bearclaw scratched Blackfell’s ear. His jet-coloured mount had kept him safe and sound through twenty-four years of exile. He would have died many winters ago if not for this ghostly, primal beast. Indeed, he might have let himself starve to death following the lost challenge had Blackfell not appeared out of the underbrush, already bearing a ravvit for his destined elf-friend. 

“We hunt for humans tonight, Blackfell,” he said. 

* * * 

Rain was healing Foxfur’s gashed arm as Swift tore into camp and dismounted her wolf. Joyleaf ran up and hugged her close. **Don’t ever stray so far, cubling,** she sent. **The humans could have easily chose a different trail to follow and taken you instead.** 

“But we were – hssss – we were nowhere near the human camp,” Foxfur gasped. “We were only gathering eggs near the forked tree.” 

“Why would they come in so far from their usual territory?” Brownberry asked. 

“That’s plain enough, she-cub,” Treestump brooded. “They’re hunting something other than their usual game.” 

**We should strike first,** Strongbow sent. **Raid ‘em and finish ‘em off! They’re meat to be wasted.** 

“No,” Joyleaf said. “No battles. No more deaths. We will just have to hold first. They have never found our Holt, after all. The humans have forgotten about us before – they will do it again.” 

Nightfall sat down next to her mother, Brownberry. “I hate the humans. I wish... I wish we could go somewhere where there aren’t any.” 

“Ohhh, sweet cubling,” Brownberry kissed her forehead. 

**Mother...** Swift sent. **I saw him...** 

**Who, daughter?** 

**Him. Bearclaw. He’s still alive.** 

Joyleaf drew in a sharp breath. She hustled Swift away from the others. “Did you speak to him?” 

“Yes.” 

“Such anger, daughter. What happened?” 

“Nothing. I told him to go away.” 

Joyleaf gazed into Swift’s eyes. **There was more. I can tell. What happened?** 

**He called me “Tam.” He used my soulname. It hurt so much!** 

**Oh, Swift... it shouldn’t have.** 

**It did! I feel sick – even now.** 

Joyleaf hugged her daughter. **He was not always so. Once... he was a fine elf. And had... had his nature not led him astray... he would have been a loving father to you.** 

Swift turned away. “I told him to go away. I said I never wanted to see him again.” 

Joyleaf hugged her again. Part of her wanted to correct Swift, tell her it was wrong to bear such contempt for one’s father. But another part rejoiced that it had been Swift who had faced the Beast, not Joyleaf herself. 

I am a coward. But... oh, I could not see him again. Not now. 

Grenn... 

She shuddered. And then she and Swift walked back to the assembled Wolfriders. 

Again the thunder rumbled far in the distance. 

* * * 

The storm that hung over the mountains for two days rolled down over the forest, souring the late afternoon into darkness. “You hear, Tabak?” the shaman said. “Gotara grumbles from the sky! He is angry with us for our failure.” 

“I have failed you, my shaman. Bind me to the Pillar of Sacrifice, strip my skull of flesh.” 

“No, Tabak. One does not spend many moons chipping out a fine blackstone blade only to snap it in two and cast it aside.” The shaman looked at the Pillar of Sacrifice, at the two skulls hung from it. One had been recovered from the forest years earlier, when he had been a young boy. The other had been a pretty little demon female he had killed in his youth. But despite years of hunting, there were no more skulls to hang on the pillar. And now, Tabak and his men had lost two females and their wolf-spirits. 

“We should not have failed,” Tabak raged. “It was the swift demon-wolves. If not for them, we’d have slain their female riders.” 

“YOU WANT DEMONS, ROUND EARS?” a voice called from the shadows. They turned and saw the old demon-chief himself, dressed in tattered leather, standing insolently at the edge of camp. “Then come for me!” he dared, and turned back into the forest. 

“Haiie!” Tabak shouted. “After him!” The hunters raced off into the brewing storm, chasing the vulnerable, wolf less elf. But the shaman remember how his mentor had died, and he sensed a trap. “Wait! No, Tabak! Wait – it is a trick!” 

But Tabak and his agemates did not hear. They raced into the darkness, spears at the ready. Helpless, and feeling his age,| the shaman ran after them, screaming for Tabak to heed him and return. 

A huge black wolf, one he had never seen before, sprang out of the underbrush, jaws agape. The shaman screamed in horror and began to sprint as fast as his aching legs would carry him. Such a black wolf must be a high servant of the demon-chief. “Gotara, save me!” the shaman cried. And Gotara answered with angry rumbles in the sky from his wardrum. But no sky-fire struck the shadow-beast, and the wolf drove the shaman deep into the forest, far from the humans’ usual hunting territory. More than one the shaman tripped, and thought his life was about to end. But each time Gotara willed him more strength, and he ran on. Finally the trees fell away and he stood in a dark clearing, ringed with briars and gnarled hardwoods. The shadow-beast had fallen silent behind him, and now simply guarded the way out. Because before the shaman stood the demon-chief, his arms spread wide. 

“Human chief. It is time we talk.” 

“I want no words with a demon-chief.” 

“I am chief no longer. My...” Bearclaw struggled to find the right words, “my woman took my place many turns ago. I am... a lone spirit. But I watch my tribe. I see how you torment my children. Enough. The forest is wide and game is plentiful. There is enough for both our tribes. We must find a way to live together in peace.” 

“Never! You have no place here, demon! We will cleanse the forest of you.” 

Blackfell drifted to the side to sniff a strange substance on the ground. It smelled and felt like slick, stagnant water, yet it was dry and barely visible. 

“This is our forest, by the blessing of Gotara who sent us the sacred bear!” the shaman continued. 

“Why do you believe such things?” Bearclaw asked. “A bear is a bear is a bear. And I killed that one. You should thank me for letting you keep it.” 

Thunder rolled overhead. 

“Lies! Demon lies! You are an evil monster!” 

“You and your kind are the monsters! You cost me my wolf-friend, my lifemate, my tribe!” 

“You killed my elder, my shaman-teacher who was a father to me!” 

“You’ve killed my friends, my tribe’s children! You denied me the chance to know my daughter!” 

“Your daughter? Hah! We will burn your daughter – burn her in the fire and strip her skull of flesh!” 

Bearclaw reached for his side reflexively, only to find that New Moon was gone. 

Of course it was gone. He had not held it for twenty-seven years. 

Instead he pulled a fire-sharpened wooden stake from his belt. “I should have known this was hopeless. Joyleaf was wrong! You cannot be reasoned with, you cannot be ignored. You are meat to be wasted!” 

Blackfell began to whine nervously. 

“You die now, demon!” the shaman raged. 

Blackfell watched as the ancient residue began to reach out with dark tendrils. 

Bearclaw lunged at the shaman with his stake. The shaman brandished his hardened staff and sprang forward. The magic tentacles shot out to embrace them. The storm broke overhead. 

A bolt of lightning slammed into the briar patch, striking the ground between the two enemies, knocking them back senseless. A smoking crater lay between them, hissing softly as the charged magic thrashed, energized by the electricity. 

Blackfell caught Bearclaw’s hair and pulled the stunned outcast away from the grasping tendrils. The shaman struggled to his feet and limped away, his hair standing on end from the lightning blast. Thwarted, the magic called out, yearning for more. 

Blackfell dragged Bearclaw deep into the forest, then licked his face until he recovered. The shaman staggered back to his camp. And as the storm continued to rage, the lightning and thunder drove a longtooth cat and a long forest-viper from their dens, into the cursed clearing. 

* * * 

Swift listened to the lightning and thunder rage outside her den, and she shivered. At her side her mother slept peacefully, well accustomed to the seasonal thunderstorms. 

But this was no simple thunderstorm. Swift felt something on the air, a dark charge to the ozone as the first raindrops began to pelt Father Tree. 

* * * 

A cold wind blew the storms out over the great oceans, and the full orb of Mother Moon once again took over the sky. Deep in the forest near the lightning-burned briar patch, small screams of small game could be heard echoing through the undergrowth. But since the attack on Foxfur and Brownberry, none of the Wolfrider dared travel for far from Father Tree, and none heard the sounds of the massacre. 

Bearclaw nursed the lightning burns to his shoulders and hair with cool water at the small stream where he often camped. Blackfell licked his wounds, whining piteously. 

“Shh, Blackfell. I’m fine...” he murmured. “Fine...” 

He sensed something nearby. Perhaps he should have moved farther from the briar patch. 

Grenn... the cold wind seemed to whisper. 

Bearclaw winced at the sound. He growled under his breath. Blackfell turned and dropped into a defensive crouch, his hackles raised. 

Grenn.... Grenn... come to me... 

**Who’s there?** the bewildered elf asked. 

**Grenn... come to me...** 

It was a sending like no other, a twisted, garbled voice. 

He swore he heard his own voice on the wind, and the human shaman's. 

**Grenn... come to me... I hunger... hunger... Grenn...** 

Bearclaw staggered to his feet. He groped for his long wooden pike. His lips curled back in a sneer. 

**I hear you...** he called back. 

**Grenn...** the voice seemed to purr. **Yesss... come to me...** 

Bearclaw struggled to shake off the painful mind touch as he strode through the forest, his wolf-friend following cautiously. The woods were unnaturally quiet – not even a bird or a baby mouse stirred the silence. An angry hum built in his head, and Bearclaw stumbled into the clearing. 

He stared in horror at the creature perched on the rock. A huge, dark green scaly monster, with the head of a reptilian longtooth and a long snake’s tail which it coiled around its body lovingly. The tip of the tail twitched in excitement as it saw Bearclaw emerge from the greenery. 

As Bearclaw beheld the monster, a wave of overwhelming, nauseating hatred washed over him. Rage, fear, primal fury... all directed at Bearclaw in one deadly sending star. 

The Wolf growled at Bearclaw. It lashed out at his soul with claws and fangs, forcing its will against his. 

Bearclaw’s legs gave way. He collapsed, vomiting bile. The sending tore at his insides, until he felt as though his entire piece would be twisted inside-out. 

More anger. More resentment. The Hunt roared. Rage and bloodlust and blood and fire. The fire burned him, threatened to extinguish him. 

The pain, the burning supernatural hatred... it was somehow familiar. 

** This is all the world will ever understand! This is the Now!** 

Bearclaw screamed. New images assaulted his mind. He saw himself face off the human shaman. He saw the lightning stir the pool of stagnant magic that his own hatred had given life. 

**Grenn... I am you... come to me...** 

He heard his own soul screaming at him across the void. 

“NOOOO!” Bearclaw howled. 

Madcoil unfurled its long tail and slithered toward the elf, like a monstrous stalking cat. 

**Grenn... come to me... I hunger for more...** 

Bearclaw groped for his spear. But he could not reach it. 

Madcoil’s jaws closed over its creator, almost lovingly. 

The Wolf sprang at him. The nightmare enveloped him. Blood and fire and wardrums. 

And a screaming child... 

And then silence. 

* * * 

Swift sat bolt upright in bed. Something had cried out in the night – cried out for her. 

* * * 

Blackfell entered the clearing. He saw the blood and carnage before him, and whined submissively, tucking his tail between his legs. 

Madcoil looked up from its feast. And it licked its blood-stained fangs with delight. 

The wolf backed away. 

The creature struck. 

* * * 

“The wardrums had started again,” Joyleaf said. She and Swift sat astride their wolves, watching the glow of bonfire rising up from the human camp. 

“What does it mean, Mother?” 

“They hunt again. For us.” 

“Something is wrong, Mother. I can feel it. Ever since that night of skyfire... two moons ago.. something has come to the forest.” 

Joyleaf smiled at her daughter. “You have gifts that are not easily put into words, Swift. Yes, I have sensed it too. There is... a new smell.. a scent of decay.” 

“Perhaps the humans sense it too. Perhaps that is why they beat their drums.” 

“Perhaps... or perhaps they have simply decided to destroy us forever.” 

Joyleaf brooded on the new sounds from the encampment, and the increasing feeling of anxiety. Something unnatural lurked in the darkness to the north, near the briars and long-dead trees that signalled the outer limits of their territory. 

“We must learn what this is,” Joyleaf decided one day. “We will form a hunting party and scour the limits out of our territory. There is something that threatens us... perhaps in a way that the humans cannot. And who knows... perhaps this time the humans are united with us – however unknowingly – in a desire to live free of this danger. Who hunts with me? Strongbow?” 

Strongbow shook his head. **When you send for us, we’ll go where you lead. But for now I’ll stay to guard our holt... and my new cub.** 

As if to confirm, Dart cried softly, and Moonshade soothed with a gentle whisper. 

After some discussion, a large hunting party came into being. Joyleaf and Swift would lead the group into the north, beyond the briar patch into whatever danger lurked just out of reach. Treestump would provide his strong arm and axe. Brownberry and her lifemate Longbranch would serve as scouts, while their daughter young Nightfall remained at the Holt with Redlance and the lifebearers. One-Eye would provide his sword and spear, while Foxfur and Skywise brought their sharp reflexes and large wolves. And Rain held up the rear of the party, praying that his healer’s skills would not be needed on such a night. 

The party was optimistic as they set out. Treestump gave a merry howl, while the lovemates Foxfur and Skywise held hands and sent sweet nothings to each other. Swift and Joyleaf kept a close watch astride Nightrunner and Sleekwind – Joyleaf’s newest wolf-friend who replaced old Shadowsheen three years past. 

“Who knows... perhaps once we deal with this creature – or whatever it may be – we will keep moving north,” Joyleaf said. “We might find a new place to set up a Holt. A summer camp, perhaps. Somewhere where we could take refuge when the drums in the human camp begin again.” 

“Yes!” Swift exclaimed. “If we moved back and forth between Father Tree and a smaller Holt – especially if we did it with no real pattern, then the humans might just think we’ve left for good.” 

“A new Holt?” Brownberry frowned. 

“We would never leave Father Tree for good... but it would be nice to have a place to go to when the human press our borders too close.” 

“Any Holt will be home as long as we’ve new cubs to raise,” Foxfur looked at Skywise dreamily. 

“Be fun at least trying, eh, Foxfur?” he winked. 

Swift chuckled. Her brother-in-all-but-blood could never stop looking to his lovemate. 

Slowly, surely, the hunting party covered a great swath of territory, heading ever northward. They were aware something unnatural in the woods, its eyes always fixed on them, its foul stench clinging in the back of their mouths. 

“It’s here....” Swift breathed. “Watching us...” 

“Why can’t we scent it?” Foxfur drew her dagger. “Why can’t we hear it?” 

“It’s mocking us...” Joyleaf growled. She nocked an arrow in her bow. 

“It feels... almost familiar...” Swift whispered. 

The wind whistled through the trees. And then – absolutely stillness, a frightening unnatural silence. Swift scanned the trees frantically while the wolves sniffed the ground for any elusive scent trails. 

“Hooo-hoo-oooo!” a whistle came from the trees, and a flutter of sound broke the quiet. Skywise jumped a foot in the air, and his massive wolf Starjumper growled angrily. 

“Shh... shh Starjumper.” He bent down to comfort his wolf. “It-it’s just an owl.” 

Foxfur touched her lovemate’s shoulders. She was just as nervous. 

“Look! Over there!” Joyleaf led them to a small clearing. A wolf cub lay on the ground, its bowels tore open, its ribcage exposed. Blood was caked to the ground, yet no flies or scavengers had come to feed. The internal organs were mostly intact, still slick and steaming. 

**A cub! Freshly killed – and for the pleasure of it!** Joyleaf sent. **Be on guard. The killer is near. I sense it.** 

Swift swung her bow on her shoulder as she turned the healer. “I hope your skills won’t be needed tonight.” 

“So do I, young Swift,” 

Swift felt something prickle the hair on the back of her neck. 

“So do–” 

Swift seized Rain by the shoulder and yanked him back, an instant before a massive scaled paw lashed out with wickedly-curved claws. The claws missed Rain’s throat by mere inches. Whatever relief Swift felt at saving the healer disappeared, however, as the creature sprang out of the forest, revealing its monstrous bulk. 

“Swift!” Joyleaf screamed at the dazed girl. 

Her mother’s voice snapped Swift out of her terror, and she pushed Rain behind her. “Get back, healer! You must survive!” 

The monster bore down at Swift, jaws agape, long forked tongue unfurled. Nightrunner sprang at the creature and sunk his fangs into its shoulder. Longbranch and Treestump lunged forward on wolfback. 

And then – the creature began to send. 

Unspeakably intense hatred and malice bore into their minds. Horrific imagery overwhelmed them, until they could hardly focus on the reality of their surroundings. Lightning lanced through clouds as a longtooth and a snake entwined in a deadly embrace, their limbs and tails alight with supernatural fire. Voices shouted through the clouds, as the thunder beat out a rhythmic chorus. 

Blood and fire and wardrums. 

Anger, resentment, wild wanderlust, deadly passion... 

**Madcoil!** the creature screamed. 

Swift struggled to keep to her feet. It was all happening too fast. Foxfur fell as the claws raked her throat. A swipe of Madcoil’s paw and Longbranch was tossed off his wolf. Another wolf already lay dead. And in front of the rearing snake-tailed beast was Joyleaf, her sword-arm held high to shield her eyes. 

“Nooo!” Joyleaf screamed. “Nooo... Grenn, stop!” 

“Mother!” Swift shouted through the mist of sendings. “Wolfriders! Run! Run for your lives!” Half-blind from the pain of Madcoil’s sending star, Swift rushed forward, trying to reach her mother. But then Madcoil turned its piercing gaze on the young Wolfrider. 

**Tam...** it hissed in her mind. 

Swift screamed. Her legs buckled and she collapsed to the ground. Nausea rose in her throat. How could anyone bear such a wound, a soulname used in anger and treachery – the most potent weapon of all? 

The fire burned her, threatened to extinguish her... 

She felt arms seize her shoulders and pull her away. She collapsed against her unseen saviour, too weak to do more. Bleeding and half-mindless, the Wolfriders scattered into the forest. 

The pain slowly began to ebb from Swift’s mind and she opened her eyes. She lay in Rain’s lap, and they sat high in a tree branch, out of reach of Madcoil’s limbs. “Healer?” she gasped. 

“I saw you fall. Simply returning a favour,” he smiled, somewhat sadly. 

“Mother.. where is my mother?” 

Rain lowered his eyes. “I don’t know.” 

Swift pulled herself from Rain’s lap. Skywise lay next to her on the branch, his back against the trunk. His forehead was gashed, and he was barely conscious. “Foxfur...” he murmured. “Foxfur... is she safe?” 

Swift became aware of more voices calling from the trees around them. 

“Brownberry?” Treestump’s voice called. “Joyleaf?” 

“Longbranch!” One-Eye shouted. “Where are you, brother?” 

“Mother – Joyleaf!” Swift shouted into the darkness. “Joyleaf!” 

“Answer us, sister!” Treestump called. 

“Swift, what–” Rain began, but Swift leapt down to the forest floor, heedless of the danger. She stared into the gloom and send out an intimate call meant for her mother alone. 

First nothing... then a faint answer... 

“Mother! She’s down here, someone help me!” Swift shouted as she raced across the blood-spattered dirt. The others were gone, leaving only bits of hair and leathers, and pools of dark blood. Swift followed one trail of spatters and streaks to a cluster of bushes. And there... her flesh torn by claws and fangs, her tan leathers saturated with blood, was Chieftess Joyleaf. 

“Mother!” Swift cried as she eased Joyleaf out from under the cover. Madcoil had attacked her, but she had somehow escaped its jaws and dragged herself to the cover of shadows. Her body was shattered, but a glimmer of life lingered in her eyes. Her right hand still clutched New Moon tightly. The bright metal blade was covered in a sticky black ichor. 

“Mother,” Swift brushed Joyleaf’s hair from her face. “Mother, can you hear me?” 

Joyleaf was too weak to speak. But her eyes met Swift’s as she sent a weak message. 

**I wounded it..... Tam... it’s him. Somehow... it’s a part of Bearclaw... the worst part... the monster... the Hunt, the Beast.** 

Skywise and Treestump reached her side. “Sister, can you speak?” Treestump begged. 

Rain dropped next to the chieftess and put his hands on her mangled body. She drew in a pained breath as Rain struggled to force his healing magic into her bones. 

**It knew my soulname, Swift... I could not fight it...** 

“Mother...” Swift whispered. 

Joyleaf’s stare pierced her to the core. **Grenn. His name is Grenn. It is the monster inside him... and his scant saving grace. Use it, daughter.** 

**I will, Mother. Rest now. Rain will heal you.** 

“Too... late...” 

“Don’t say that!” 

“Finish it for me, my chief-daughter,” she begged. She raised her arm and pressed the cold hilt of the sword into Swift’s palm. “Take New Moon... your hand is mine... when you strike... so will I...” 

Joyleaf’s head rolled lifelessly to the side. Rain let out a keening wail. He continued to pour his healing magic into the body for several tense moments, then sat back on his heel, defeated. 

“I could not...” he gasped. “It was too late... too bad...” 

Swift hugged her mother tight in one final embrace, weeping. The surviving Wolfriders bowed their heads in mourning. They stood back, letting Swift have one last moment alone with her mother. And then, Treestump touched Swift’s shoulders and gently lifted her to her feet. 

“What is your will... my chief?” 

Swift stared at him numbly. “We... we go back to the Holt. We get the others. And... and then we avenge our dead.” She looked back at Joyleaf’s body. “Help me... someone help me carry her.” 

“Swift–” 

“No! I won’t leave her here for the creature to eat. She will be left in untainted forest. Who will help me?” 

“I will,” Rain said. He and Treestump picked up the corpse while Swift cradled the head lovingly. 

Swift thought of the wolves. She turned, and saw that not all had survived. Longbranch’s wolf, and Foxfur’s, and Treestump’s, and Rain’s, all had disappeared. But Sleekwind was still alive, and Swift beckoned the wolf closer. Then draped Joyleaf stomach-down on the wolf’s back. Swift knelt and looked the wolf in the eyes. 

**Take her away. Take her somewhere... clean.** 

Sleekwind’s eyes told her that she understood. The she-wolf turned, then quietly melted into the darkness. 

Swift got to her feet. Four dead. Longbranch, Brownberry, Foxfur... and now Joyleaf. The wolfpack decimated. One-Eye and Skywise badly wounded. And somehow... her sire was responsible. 

Swift set her jaw. “Back to the Holt,” she commanded with a strength she did not feel. 

* * * 

“Rain!” Moonsbreath cried out. She dropped the blanket she had been mending and raced across the clearing to throw her arms about her lifemate’s neck. She kissed him fiercely, and Rain returned the embrace with equal, desperate ardor. 

**Ryuu,** She used his soulname in an intimate lock-send. **I felt – Death almost touched you.** 

**Death touched others, beloved. Those I could not save.** 

“Father!” Pike barrelled into his parents and hugged his father enthusiastically. 

Strongbow and Grayling jogged up to Swift. The brothers saw the emptiness in her eyes and their hearts sank. Nightfall searched the hunting party for her parents, and when she met only mournful faces, she let out a scream of horror and heart-shattering grief. Redlance raced to her side and held his young lovemate tight as she sobbed convulsively. 

Slowly, painfully, the entire tale unfolded to the Wolfriders. 

“It’s called Madcoil...” Swift finished the tale. “And it has elfin magic in it.” She could not bring herself to try and explain the role that the mysterious Grenn somehow played. “It knew my soulname,” she admitted. “It knew Mother’s.” 

Grayling moved behind her, a little leather thong in his hands. When he reached for her white-blond hair, Swift flinched. “No...” she whispered. “Not yet.” 

“You are our chief now,” Grayling said simply. Swift closed her eyes and let the tears flow down her cheeks as her half-brother gathered up a lock of blond hair and tied it at the crown of her head. 

Swift drew in a shaky breath. “Madcoil can be killed! Joyleaf wounded it before she died. I promised I would finish what she began, but we must work as one to destroy it. All of us. Will you help me?” 

Their eyes told her she need not to have asked. 

“Moonshade, Rainsong, Woodlock, you will stay here. Care for Dart and the cub Rainsong carries. The rest of you, mount your wolves and come with me. You can ride Brownberry’s wolf-friend Rattle-Ribs, Treestump. Rain – you will ride with me.” 

“How will we kill this creature, Swift?” Dewshine asked. 

Swift smiled grimly. “With nets and cunning. It’ll be just like hunting bear.” 

* * * 

The Wolfriders followed the trail of death and decay towards the north-west, far beyond their usual borders. The trail was strong, marked not only by mere scents, but by a sense of unease and foreboding – and occasionally, but grisly spoor that still bore the undigested flakes of bone and metal jewelry. Skywise found a piece of Foxfur’s golden collar and rushed into the bushes to vomit. Eyes High and Shale could only watch their son suffer, for neither words nor sending would ease the pain of a lost first love. 

They travelled for a full night and day before Swift instructed them to wait while she rode Nightrunner ahead. Something beckoned her to leave the clear trail of torn underbrush and bits of neglected meat. She hurried off on a tangent, following a strange prickle at the back of her neck. 

The weeds and thistles that choked Nightrunner’s progress through the wood suddenly fell back, and Swift found herself staring at a gaping cave mouth. Sickly black ichor was spattered on the ground in places, and streaked as if by a thick tail in others. The broken bones that littered the opening and the magic-wilted roots and weeds that surrounding the rocks confirmed Swift’s instinct. 

Madcoil’s empty den. 

Swift did not enter. She knew what she would find inside, and she had no wish to see for herself. 

She dismounted from Nightrunner and took in her surroundings. Ravens perched on the gnarled trees, and strange briars twisted in convoluted knots. Dark magic was everywhere. Madcoil’s tainted touch had corrupted this distant glen into a place as dark and dangerous as that briar patch where Swift had encountered Bearclaw. 

“The briar patch...” Swift whispered. “That’s where this thing was created... that night... the storm.... Come on, Nightrunner!” she sprang onto her wolf’s back. “Let’s get back to the others before Madcoil comes home.” 

* * * 

**We make our stand here!** Swift sent. **Scouter, Strongbow, Eyes High – I want you to scout out this trail. Madcoil’s den is that way, and it will soon return to rest. Let us know the instant it returns. Pike, Dewshine, Skywise, Shale – start peeling bark from their trees and bleeding them for sap. The rest of you – gather vines and rocks. We are going to build a net large enough to trap eight bears! No one speak. From now until the creature is dead, we will only send.** 

The Wolfriders set to work. Pike and his brother Shale stripped away bark from the trees, then pierced the wood underneath while Dewshine caught the sticky sap in a little bowl. Clearbrook and One-Eye laid out the first catch of vines, and Moonsbreath instructed Nightfall and Treestump in weaving. As the net grew, Skywise, Pike and Grayling began to coat the vines with sap. Treestump and Rain lashed the rocks into the net, and Pike spread more sap over each stone. Every Wolfrider pitched in, and soon the net was completed. Swift watched as the Wolfriders scaled the trees and began to drag the net up. 

**We can scent Madcoil, but we can’t see it,** Eyes High sent from her perch. **It’s nearby... but not inside its den.** 

**Good enough. Come back to help us set up the net.** She looked up at the progress. **It’s heavy. Choose the strongest branches. I don’t any of you falling before you’re supposed to.** 

When everyone was in the trees, Swift climbed up to join them for one last inspection. **Good. I’m going to get Madcoil. Remember – when I yell, all of you jump down at the same time. It’ll be just like catching a bear.** 

**Be careful, Swift!** Skywise sent. **We... we can’t lose you too.** 

Swift took a step towards the den when she felt something tug at her vest. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Nightrunner holding her back. Swift smiled and gestured for him to accompany her. 

She left the clearing and the net, carefully picking her way towards the den, leaving herself a clear route back. And then she felt something touch her mind. Madcoil sensed her. The twisted sending star of the monster burned in her head. 

**Tam... come to me...** 

Swift winced, but this time she did not swoon. Somehow, either through the knowledge gained at Joyleaf’s death, or through her newfound strength as chieftain, she had gained some immunity to the sound of her soulname used in anger. 

“Yes... I’ll come... curse you...” she breathed. 

She entered the glade and beheld the empty den. She could smell fear and contagion nearby. “Show yourself, Madcoil!” she shouted. 

She heard a growl, but she could not place the source. 

**Grenn!** she sent. **I know you now! Your name is Grenn. Your name is the Beast. Come out and face me. Don’t think – just come on, you bloodsucker. I’m waiting! Tam is waiting for you!** 

A terrible screaming roar echoed behind her. Swift spun on her heel to see Madcoil spring from its hiding place across from the den – blocking her way back to the others! 

Swift leapt on Nightrunner’s back, and the wolf tore directly at Madcoil. The serpent-cat lunged at the approaching prey. But at the last moment, Nightrunner sprang into the air, willing all his strength into his hind legs. He soared over the downward-lunging maw, and landed square on Madcoil’s scaled head. In two bounds he and Swift had leapt down from the creature. 

Thwarted, Madcoil screamed and spun around with an agility belied by its huge size. Swift glanced over her shoulder. The creature was gaining fast, and double-determined to catch its prey. Swift looked up at the tree cover. No.. not yet. Not quite there yet. 

She felt Madcoil’s fetid breath on her back as Nightrunner taxed his aching muscles to their breaking point. Swift looked up again and saw the net above her. The glowing eyes of the Wolfriders were fixed on her. 

Swift and Nightrunner streaked under the net. Madcoil slithered after them. 

“NOW!” Swift screamed as she cleared the far edge of the net. 

The Wolfriders leapt. The net came down soundly. 

Swift scrambled off Nightrunner’s back and raced back to the struggling, hissing creature. “Madcoil!” she shouted. 

Madcoil screamed in pain and confusion. But the sap-coated vines held, and the Wolfriders clenched the edges of the net with sixteen death grips. 

**TAM!!** the creature screamed in one last desperate gamble as Swift sprang onto its head, New Moon drawn. 

“Send all you want, you magic-born mistake! I know you now!” 

**TAM, stop!** 

“Joyleaf, guide my hand!” Swift cried as she raised New Moon high over her head, then drove it squarely into the golden eye of the creature. With one last final thrash of the head that tore the net of out Redlance’s and Nightfall’s hands, the creature screamed, then collapsed. 

Swift stared down at the motionless beast. Black blood covered her hands. But she did not trust her eyes. 

Treestump climbed up behind her and patted her shoulder. “You did it, lass. Right through the eye. Madcoil is finished!” 

Finished... 

Slowly, Swift withdrew New Moon. She leaned against her uncle as he helped her down from the beast’s head. 

Finished. Joyleaf was avenged. Grenn was dead. 

The fire was extinguished at last. 

“What will we do with it?” Nightfall placed a booted foot on the beast’s lifeless paw. 

**Leave it to rot,** Strongbow sent. 

“No,” Swift gasped. “Madcoil has crippled our tribe. Its body will serve us now. Help me take its head. I have an idea.” 

* * * 

“Come quickly, shaman!” Tabak cried. He caught the shaman’s withered arm and pulled the wiry old man to the clearing at the edge of camp where the demon-chief had taunted them only a few moons ago. 

“What is it?” Tabak asked, scowling at the bewildering sight. 

The scaly head of the monster the hunters had first encountered two moons ago lay on the ground, its forked tongue protruding from its jaws. And surrounding the head were bunches of wildflowers, a woven basket filled with fresh berries, and – most precious – a spirit dagger made of the shiny silver rocks, stronger than any blackstone blade. 

The shaman stared in disbelief at the sight. “I... uh... Gotara....” But he could find no explanation for gifts that surrounded the grotesque head. 

“Humans!” a voice called from the trees, in a strangely-accented speech. “The monster is dead. We – your... demons – killed it. We not make that monster, but we kill, we clean forest of it. It is over. Take gifts – gifts of the spirits. We no demons. We... good spirits. One day maybe we be friends. Now... take gifts and make no more battle. Farewell.” 

“Shaman, what does it mean?” Tabak frowned. 

“I... I don’t know. Quick – burn the head. Gotara’s sacred fire will rid us of this abomination.” 

“And the ‘gifts?’” Tabak eyed the dagger hungrily. 

The shaman also wanted the dagger. “I will take them. I will study them. This is surely a demon trap. But perhaps... perhaps this time, Gotara works through our enemies...” 

* * * 

**It was unwise to give them your dagger, Swift,** Strongbow sent as they returned to the Holt. **They may one day use it against us. What if one day they sacrifice one of us with that blade's edge?** 

“It's a risk, I admit. And maybe the humans will only twist my words to suit what their ‘Gotara’ wills. But maybe... just this once, they might listen, if only for a little while...” 

Strongbow shook his head. But he sent nothing. 

* * * 

A moon after they left Madcoil’s head in the human camp, the wardrums began up again. But no human trackers entered the Wolfrider’s territory. Perhaps they had forged the first links of friendship. Or perhaps it was nothing but a brief respite from the cycle of hatred. But the first frost had descended on the forest, and if the old animosities were to be stirred up, they would have to wait until the newgreen. 

One final loose end needed to be tied. Swift took Nightrunner and left the Holt, heading for the lightning-burned briar patch. She found the land scarred by scorch marks just as she had imagined, just as the sending from Madcoil had hinted. 

She searched the forest around the briar patch, following the faint traces of dying scents. And there, in a small glade, she found the sun-bleached bones of elf and wolf. 

Nightrunner sniffed the wolf bones curiously while Swift waded through the grass, inspecting the remains. A glint of light in the weeds beckoned her. She bent down and lifted up and broken elf’s skull, stripped clean of all flesh and sinew, stabbed through the top by an immense fang. 

“So you fell...” Swift whispered. “Were you its first meal?” 

Gently, she set the skull back in the weeds. And then she saw the wolfshead pendant, lying intact among the bits of shoulder bone and ribs. She hesitated a moment, then lifted the pendant and weighed it in her hand. 

She got to her feet. “Come on, Nightrunner.” She tucked the chain through the waistband of her breech-cloth. “Let’s go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Check out the full EQ Alternaverse at http://www.janesenese.com/swiftverse


End file.
